Night and Day
by In Dreams
Summary: They were complete opposites. But being thrown together unexpectedly, and with the war looming ahead, will they be able to overcome their opposing sides for the sake of, could it be called a friendship?
1. Clashed

Giving this a try, though I have no idea how it will turn out, but I do have the plans for quite a while ahead. Don't own anything, please review if you think I should continue with this. 

~~**~~ 

He stepped gracefully onto Platform 9 3/4. No person, Muggle or Wizard, would see him hurry like any mere commoner. Cold grey eyes stared lazily around the station, trapping and hiding any emotion held within them, save for malice. A sneer twisted his lips as he watched the children racing past him. His glance shifted to the magnificent red train before him, dark eyes focused ahead, determined on keeping the silence surrounding him. 

He walked towards it, heavy immaculate boots clicking with the stone floor. His platinum blond hair was splayed across his forehead, stated as the family trademark. For he was the son of Lucius Malfoy, prominent in the wizarding communities, both good and bad. Loyal to the Dark Lord, and following in the darkness of the Malfoy bloodline. 

This seventeen year old vision of Salazar Slytherin himself was named Draco Malfoy. One whom had never been known, never been understood. All that followed as he walked were rumours, nothing was known beyond the fundamentals. Head Boy; yes that had been heard. Death Eater; most believed that to be a given. The female heartthrob of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; agreed upon by the majority. 

His steady gaze shifted as he saw a group of three people standing casually just beyond the entrance of the train. His silver eyes connected with emerald green ones containing a harsh coldness, that didn't fail to be met. His sneer increased as he lifted his stare, these people didn't merit his attention in his mind. 

The mindless Harry Potter, greatest enemy to all who support darkness in any form. Ronald Weasley, the densest being to hit Hogwarts in its thousands of years, determined to ever remain loyal sidekick to Potter. And of course the Mudblood know-it-all Granger, with her purely Gryffindor attitude. Standing securely, with the 'Head Girl' badge already pinned proudly to her jumper. 

Her eyes shifted and soft brown met hard grey. He scoffed at how easily he could read the emotions inside her mind. He knew how eager she was to get back to the school, and it was sickening. He didn't care about the fact that it was his seventh year at Hogwarts, he hated the place almost as much as the fool who ran it, Albus Dumbledore. Determined that nothing could ever beat him and the famous Harry Potter. 

The sneer faded from his lips gradually as he took a seat in an empty compartment, soon filled with his Slytherin counterparts. Blaise Zabini was the one who knew the most of Draco out of anyone, living or dead. But even he knew naught of sketchy details. One who had been a close friend in family to the Malfoy's since birth, he remembered the harshness that had been taught to the boy at a young age. Not once could he remember being informed of anything from any family, been confided in, or anything of the like. 

Blaise himself, had turned cold as well, not quite, so to speak, as cold as the King of Slytherins. After all he had seen, it was a wonder he hadn't cracked sooner, gone completely mad. Few knew of the darkness in his heart, which he fairly refused to pay notice. Any mention of the life he once knew had been washed away entirely. It was almost as if him and Draco Malfoy had an unmentioned bond, unseen and unheard of, but exerting a faint presence over anyone who saw the pair. 

Occasionally on the long journey Pansy Parkinson would open her mouth to speak, but would be silenced at one glare from Draco's cold, harsh gaze. The other occupants, Crabbe and Goyle, were too busy sleeping and eating to notice what was taking place in the premises. Neither of them had any true depth to their lives. Draco snickered as he thought what they would do if anything happened in their lives that was unexpected. Probably lay over and pretend to be asleep. 

His face set into a cold expression as he noticed Pansy reading a book. She had been one to play a role in his undoing. She had almost learned how his mind controlled itself years ago. Another friend of the Malfoy family, to keep up appearances, her and Draco had never achieved anything beyond an attempted acquaintanceship. Over their years at Hogwarts, they had grown even further apart, after she had tried to see the meaning to his life in their fourth year. She had wanted a relationship, one that he wasn't willing to spend time to give. Or else he was just unable to remove the blockade around his heart long enough to realize what love could be. 

Albeit he had never had a true relationship or actually cared about anyone in his life, he was far from inexperienced. Girls often lined up for a chance with him, for anything at all, regardless of him being the cold-hearted Slytherin that he was. And of course, he had never seen love between his parents, which had been arranged for the sole purpose of making an heir to continue the Malfoy line. 

He stretched out on the bench of the compartment, turning his gaze towards the English countryside rapidly passing by. Awe-inspiring images fell somewhat flat on the way to his mind. He closed his heavy eyelids with the intent of catching some sleep to pass the time, when there came a small knock on the door. Blaise opened it hesitantly, and Draco barely moved his head to inspect the visitor. 

He set his head back against the window as he saw it was only a second or third year, probably from Hufflepuff by the way he was shaking, Draco thought mirthfully. The boy took a small step into the room, and opened his mouth slowly. He seemed unable to say anything, but Blaise continued staring, waiting for any sign of life. 

"The Head Boy," he began in a shaky voice. Draco glanced back out of the window. He hadn't asked for the title, he didn't even want it, let alone the responsibilities and attention along with it. "He's supposed to go to the front of the train to receive a message from Dumbledore," the boy finished, and was back out the door right away. Draco stood up after a while, and left silently, ignoring the looks he was receiving. He neglected to notice the sadness in them, at how he had become. 

He walked slowly down the long hallway of the train, shoving first and second years out of the way when they happened to be in his direct path. He ignored the giggling girls as he passed, mentally shuddering at the supposed level of their IQs. His eyes once again harboured their deepest resentment to anyone who caught his gaze. 

He arrived at the front of the train, noting the foremost compartment had a shiny dark plaque with the word 'Heads' embossed in gold. He slowly turned the handle and stepped in, to an unexpectedly empty compartment. He had assumed Granger to be there in her bookworm-like glory by the time he had opened the door. He took a seat on one bench and noticed an owl flying alongside the train, just outside the window. He opened it, and the creature flew in gratefully, dropping a roll of parchment on the floor. He bent over to pick it up, and just then the door flew open and Hermione Granger ran in, breathing heavily. He sneered at how keen she was to do the Headmaster's bidding. 

She sat down on the bench across from him, bent over with her hands on her knees. She didn't even notice his captivating grey eyes focused on her, unblinking. She looked up, and stared straight at him, with a challenging look in her eyes. He looked away, smirking at her naivety. If she thought she could spook him with a simple glance, she had another thing coming indeed. 

She watched, intending to look uninterested as he scan through the letter Dumbledore sent from the school. He scowled at it as he finished, and handed it to Hermione, fuming inwardly. How dare that old man decide that house bonds need to be strengthened. Why the hell would he think that this could be achieved if only the heads spent the entire year together. Draco would have been perfectly content staying in the Slytherin dorms and hating Mudbloods like he always had. However, he had pride, and wished to keep his position of an authority figure as Head Boy, as long as it was his to keep. 

A small cry from the opposite side of the compartment brought him back to the present, where he saw Granger staring at the parchment with wide eyes. She parted her pink lips as if to say something, but shut them and grudgingly pulled out a copy of "Advanced Transfiguration" and began to read. Draco on the other hand, leaned back and closed his eyes, not noticing the furtive glances he was receiving from his complete opposite across the cart. 

Hermione Granger had grown up in an environment that would be considered welcome by anyone. In most people's standards she had a childhood to die for. Two parents loved her more than life itself, a wonderful older brother who was anything like a typical brother in most opinions. Of course she was the smarted girl in her younger grades. And then she learned of Hogwarts and her true heritage. Her family were shocked and started to treat her differently. To all appearances they remained happy, and were extremely proud of her. 

Each year as she returned to her school, her family would discuss what was happening to her. When she came home she constantly spoke of what she had learned. It had begun to unnerve them. But of course they stayed happy for she was delighted. The summer before her sixth year she overheard her parents talking of her. Ever curious, she stopped to listen and heard what she had not wanted to. Tears welled in her eyes but she willed herself to stay put, as they agreed she would be unable to continue her life in the magical world as soon as she had graduated. 

With a heavy heart she returned to school for her second last year, only to have it go hardly better than her summer had. Ron and Harry, always the best of friends, were becoming more immersed in their Quidditch. Hermione however, told herself that their constant disappearances and ignorance were not aimed at her. 

It was in that moment back home, just over a year ago, that she had decided to make her last years of magic the best they could be. But with the war looming ever closer, she became concerned. Petty grades wouldn't help her from the might of the dark side over her own. She had kept it a very well hidden secret that she was doubting their power in the war. More than once had she wondered what could happen if they had lost. 

She put away her book, with a sigh, and pulled out a new one. The other occupant of the compartment opened his eyes at the sudden noise, and shot her a glare, taking in her long dark hair, and big brown eyes. She took a good look at his sharp features, and mostly, his shocking silver eyes burning into her own. It was true he was extremely attractive, more so than he had been as a cocky young boy in his first years at school. However, she was much more than skin-deep like many other girls who went only for looks. She knew the person beneath the beauty, so to speak. 

She thought back to her parents reaction upon receiving her letter announcing her Head Girl for the following year. They had acted proud, and said how much she deserved it. She keep up an image she believed them wholly. Inside she was breaking, wondering why they hadn't bothered to tell her what they had determined about the following summer. 

Her brother however, had given up all pretense of showing he was happy for her. As her parents became confused of their decision, he had started to hate his "freak" of a sister. He had changed from the loving brother, to a cold stranger. Cold like Draco Malfoy. She shook away the memories, refusing to let them overtake her mind, and force her to break down in front of her greatest enemy. If only his cold stare didn't so remind her of her brother's, before he had left for a Muggle college. 

The last words he spoke to her filled her head, impossible to block out, as she felt, horrified, a tear roll down her cheek. "Come talk to me if you ever turn normal again," he had said, voice filled with spite. She remembered watching him drive off, possibly to never see him again. She looked up at the ceiling, and slammed her book in frustration. Another tear fell, and she choked on a sob. 

"If you don't mind, Granger, I'm trying to sleep," came the irritated voice of Draco Malfoy. She looked at him and noticed him glaring at her again. He didn't care that her cheeks were tear-stained. 'Why would he,' she thought irritably with herself. 'It's not like I would care in the situation, if he ever let out any emotion at all,' her conscience reminded her. 

"Honestly, if you're going to turn into a fountain, please leave, I'd hate to drown in Mudblood tears," he continued, eyes glinting evilly. He looked away indifferently, and didn't speak further. She gave him one last half-hearted glare, and left the compartment, slamming the door behind her. He barely turned his head, just to check if she was gone. He let out an annoyed sigh; this would be an incredibly long year. 


	2. Perfection

Thanks for the reception to the first chapter, I think this could lead into something, though I won't get my hopes up. ;) Don't own anything except the plot. 

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly in a mixture of anticipation and dread. Once she opened them again the world would come spinning back, and Dumbledore's speech would continue. He would announce the new positions of status among the students for the following year, including prefects and heads. It would both confirm her appointed position, and repeat the terrible information that her cohort would be none other than Malfoy. She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder, and opened her eyes slowly, grinning at Harry. 

He grinned back and shot a scornful look at Ron, as he complained for the sake of his never ending hunger. She turned her gaze to the High Table just to hear her name mentioned, followed closely by Malfoy's. She shot a glare over to the Slytherin table, and he wasn't even paying attention. It was obvious he had been chosen for the job based on his marks, and not school enthusiasm. Or else all the others were constantly in detention, she thought, grinning lightly at the prospect of either Harry or Ron being Head Boy. 

The three had been through more than anyone could even begin to imagine together over the last 6 years. Hermione didn't expect this year to be any different, though perhaps not with as much of a prideful outcome, regarding the war. She was positive that they would get past it though, as they always did. Satisfied, she watched as the food appeared on plates, much to the excitement of Ron. 

She ate in contentment, overjoyed to be back at her only true home. With a prick of sadness she remembered it would all be over in less than a year. She glanced around the marvelous hall, taking in everything from the enchanted ceiling, showing murky grey clouds. She watched as her professors spoke of their lesson plans, stories of the summer, or whatever happened to pass their minds. She looked at all the great friends she had made in the past. 

She finally looked at the Slytherin table. The most sullen of the entire group, eating in silence with the rare bit of noticeable conversation. She felt a flare of anger as she wondered how many of them would be fighting with the dark side in the war. As soon as it came that was. No one knew, though it was certain by most that it would occur in this year. Her last year. Ruined by unexplainable hate. 

She didn't realize she was glaring until the eyes of her target raised to meet hers. Dark grey burned into her. She shifted her stare, bitterly imagining this very person to be one of the traitors. Of course he would be, he's a Slytherin, her mind told her. Though she saw one or two of that table, with a light to them, they hadn't yet been destroyed by the hate of their kind. Where spite, anger, and coldness dominated. 

As the feast ended, Professor McGonagall walked up to giver Hermione directions to her new common room. Harry and Ron were shocked, as well as disgusted at the prospective living conditions that faced their best friend. She could do nothing but follow her orders and walk in the opposite direction of the Gryffindor Tower she had come to love. 

She walked slowly down the hall, in no real hurry to arrive at her destination. On the bright side, she was sure her common room would be simply delightful, regardless of having to share it with a prat like Malfoy. He would probably never even be there anyway. She didn't imagine him as the type of person to sit around doing nothing very often. Although everything about him was quite a mystery, even she knew as much. 

She approached a regal looking painting of an eighteenth century man and woman on a picnic together, so it seemed. The man stood and bowed towards her as he saw her, and she smiled lightly. She whispered the password she had been told, and it swung open, eliciting a gasp from Hermione. What struck her the most was its pure size. Absolutely monstrous, the common room stretched for what seemed like miles. She noticed it was quite similar to the Gryffindor common room, with couches surrounding a warm fire. 

She took a small step into the room and noticed a large bookcase in the corner, filled with every book she had ever read and infinitely more. She was so enticed by the room, she didn't seem to remember, or notice the arrival of the one she would be sharing it with. He took one tasteless look around, and shoved past her. 

"Time to learn not to stand in doorways, Granger," he muttered, as he headed up the magnificent staircase in the opposite end of the common room. She glared shortly into the floor, and slowly inspected the room further. She ventured up the staircase, and stopped to admire her room. It also covered a great expanse, though not nearly as much space as downstairs, she noted. Sighing, she fell over onto the bed and lay there until exhaustion and her full stomach pushed her to succumb to much needed sleep. 

He glared around his new room, rather dissatisfied. He appreciated his room in the Slytherin dorms better, it was darker and colder. Just like Granger to absolutely love the place the moment she laid eyes on it, he though bitterly. He disliked every mention of her, and anything to do with her. He glared at her closed door across the hall from his, slamming his own door. The silver name plate on the other side of the door rattled, and he smirked, glad something wasn't perfect. If there was something he hated, it was perfection. 

He woke on Sunday morning and went grudgingly down the staircase into the common room. He saw Granger on one couch by the fire, absorbed in a book. He sneered at her, pink lips twisted upwards. She felt his stare on her back and shivered, all too aware who it was. He continued out of the room without a word, slamming the portrait shut harshly behind him, causing her to jump. She absent mindedly flipped the page, unnoticeably losing focus as each second passed. 

He walked toward the Great Hall for breakfast, and saw the usual gaggle of Gryffindors cheerily eating their first meal of the day, in deep enjoyable conversation. For half a second he wondered why Granger hadn't been down to join them, but he realized perhaps she was just stupid. His sharp eyes caught a slight movement, as he saw Potter set his hand on that of the youngest Weasley, and she grinned at him. Draco smirked, eyes alight with malice and continued on. 

He wandered back to his new common room later on in the day, in quite a state of boredom. Maybe if he could spend some time bothering the Mudblood it would amuse him for a time. And of course he knew what he could use as his ammo; half the school knew she had a type of crush on Potter. Of course this made Draco snort with disgust, at both the situation and the raw feelings she harboured. Love will get you nowhere, was the motto that had been taught, or rather beaten into him from a very young age. 

He noticed with a spark of malice that she was still reading, oblivious to the rest of the world. He sat down slowly on the opposite couch and watched her for a moment. So involved, so free. For a moment he wondered what it was to be her. All she had to worry about were marks, which weren't even a bother as she was the smartest girl in the school. Smartest for centuries. 

She shot him a curious glance, as he opened his mouth and abruptly closed it again. Planning the best way to anger her, as well as break her heart. He contemplated how much joy he would get from such a sight, though it wouldn't much mean anything to him. 

"What is Potter to you? What do you feel for him?" He asked slowly, staring just past her head, into the couch, deep in thought. She looked up with cold eyes, and glared at him. 

"Harry's my best friend," she said dangerously, as if it were a threat rather than a comment. He shrugged loosely, unaffected. 

"Then I suppose you won't mind the fact that I just saw him in the Great Hall, behaving as more than friends, with Ginny Weasley," he said maliciously, lips turned into a smirk. She appeared unperturbed by the news, though he could easily see through her calm exterior into the fright in her eyes. She felt his gaze burn her skin, and her face heat up. 

"He- he wouldn't, I know Harry," she muttered in a confident manner to herself more than to Draco. He watched her argue with her mind. She looked up at him, into his cold silver eyes. "He wouldn't, he knows how I feel, you obviously could tell and you despise me," she gave him a suspicious glance. 

"Does he honestly? Looked to me like he hadn't a clue," he continued on darkly, not concerned of her wavering hope, and her watering eyes. "And I happen to be a rather perceptive person. I understand the human psyche, much unlike Potter. He wouldn't be able to see if someone cared for him if they waved it in his face," he scoffed, with a slight grin. In no case did the warmth reach his eyes. It disturbed her, almost appearing as if he had finally cracked and gone insane. 

She looked at him for a moment, almost pleading with him to tell her it was all a lie. To say he had made it up, and that Harry would never feel anything for anyone but her. A spark of anger melted inside her, spreading within, at the thought of him and Ginny. She couldn't take it, she stood up and went towards the portrait. She stopped suddenly in her tracks, turned back around and walked solemnly up the staircase to her room instead, giving him one last saddened gaze. He met her eyes with coldness, rather than the warmth she had maybe wished or even hoped for. 

He smirked to himself, sitting down in front of the fire. First day back and he had nearly reduced the Mudblood bookworm to tears. The Slytherins would be oh-so proud. Though of course they would, most of them worshipped every bloody word he spoke. Perhaps not Blaise. Even Draco saw the changes in him over what he had experienced in his life. It was almost enough to break him, for him to feel something. Almost. 

She sat in front of the warm fire in the Gryffindor common room. It had been two weeks ago, when her heart had been crushed at the hands of Draco Malfoy. The next day Harry had told her about him and Ginny. How they had gotten together over the summer, and were just unable to tell her before, due to everything new. She smiled and said how happy she was for them. Just like a best friend was. 

She wondered, why would he have told her? To see her in pain no doubt, so he could laugh coldly as she lost her heart to the one who could never have it. But why not let her find out for herself later on, humiliate herself in front of her friends. She always knew Slytherins were known for their coldness and the fact that they tended to place themselves on the dark side. He could have easily laughed at her in the hall, if her eyes were red and empty. If her schoolwork was affected. 

She stared into the fire, confused about many things. The duty of Head Girl had been one of more responsibility than she had expected when she first received her badge. Two years before, the head girl had told her how much fun it was. How she would most definitely have the position, and love it to pieces. She didn't mention how she got along with that year's head boy. 

Ginny suddenly waved a hand in front of her eyes, bringing her back to the present, as she grinned apologetically at her friends. As they began their conversation again, she drifted. Everyone was expecting her to be absolutely perfect. Dumbledore, McGonagall, even her best friends of Gryffindor. She had strayed from them, she noticed it even. In only two weeks she had been disconnected from great bonds that had formed over six fabulous years. 

She watched as Harry gazed at Ginny lovingly. She tried with all her might to feel happy, to be overjoyed at how perfect they were together. She doubted Harry would mind being called perfect. She hated the word. 

It went along with more trouble than it was worth, by all means. She let out a deep sigh, as she slowly put her books back into her bag. There was a prefect's meeting she was to attend, to keep up her position and status. Overwhelming, really. She would see him again, see his cold dark eyes. She often wondered why she had bore a part of her soul to him. As expected, he threw it back in her face. Why would he care what she felt, or what happened to her. He didn't know emotion. 

She sat on the couch by Ron, as he flipped through the latest edition of his Quidditch magazine, sending occasional glances across the room at Lavender Brown. She wished more than anything that someone would send secret looks her way. To hold her like Harry did Ginny. She wanted someone in her life, as more than a friend, though she wouldn't admit it. No boy in the school would ever care for her, but perhaps in the future. Her Muggle future. A tear fought its way out of her large brown eye. 

She remembered her brief spell of a relationship with Viktor Krum in fourth year. She had travelled to Bulgaria that Summer as he had requested, to find that he wanted nothing more than friendship. She was nothing, just a fling while he was away from his regular lifestyle. To think she had taken him seriously. 

Ron glanced over and his expression turned to concern as he saw the solitary tear make its way down her cheek. She hastily wiped it away, excusing herself and left the room, wandering aimlessly towards her own. She didn't need to be around that type of atmosphere for the moment. 

She had no earlier sat down on her own couch when there was a knock on the door. She opened it, and found her colleague and good friend, Mandy Brocklehurst. She was above all, shocked to see her there. 

"Hey Mione, is Draco here?" She asked kindly. Hermione wrinkled her nose for a moment. Mandy laughed at her reaction. "I just need to tell him something." 

"No, I don't think he is, unless he's hiding in his room," she answered. "Should I leave a message?" She asked, as Mandy looked disturbed. She grew from happy, as the smile faded and grew into a frown. She turned angry not long after, and Hermione became slightly scared. After all, she had never seen this collected Ravenclaw lose her emotions as such. 

Her eyes glinted. "Yes, write this down will you?" She asked slyly. Hermione grabbed a quill and parchment and wrote as Mandy dictated, dark grin increasing with each word she spoke. 

Five minutes later, Mandy was ready to leave, in search of him herself. She waved farewell to Hermione, as the latter walked back into the common room, feeling happier than she had for a while. Ten minutes later he walked into the common room, and flopped down on the couch, staring into the dying fire. 

"Did Mandy find you?" She asked nonchalantly. His eyes flickered and he seemed to become irritated. 

"No, she didn't," he said shortly, not bothering to look at her. 

"She left a message," Hermione replied. He shrugged so she took it as a signal to tell him. She pulled out the small piece of paper, and read from it in a monotone. "What the hell is the matter with you, you heartless son-of-a-bitch, I can't believe you would do that, even being you. At least you could have told me, before going behind my back like that, you worthless piece of shit. I can't believe I ever trusted an asshole like you." She finished, eyes gleaming. He however, showed no reaction. 

"Was that it?" He asked, with no emotion. She noticed that the barrier over his eyes was almost cracking, whatever it meant or showed. 

"Well, she also asked me to slap you, but I'll leave that up to her." She smirked, and he almost said something about it, but kept his mouth shut. He raised an eyebrow and shrugged, as if he didn't care what she would to do. Hermione laughed, for she enjoyed his reaction, and departed to her room. 


	3. Reckless

The first three weeks of seventh year had ambled by in the slowest way Hermione could remember. Even fifth year, or OWL year, had not gone as impossibly slow. Everyone in their year had imagined that no year would give them more homework than they had received two years previously. None of them however, had been in seventh year before. Even Hermione, at the top of her year, was to be found hastily finishing an essay on the uses of fanged geranium leaves. 

She sighed as she put down her quill and shoved the parchment into her bag, hoping to catch the last few minutes of breakfast. Ignoring Malfoy's comment about her being a procrastinator, she made her way down to the Great Hall, preparing herself for another long, monotonous day. It seemed new plans had been hatched for the day. She entered the room to a great silence, noticing a great number of students bent over the _Daily Prophet_, eyes wide. 

Rushing over to Harry and Ron, she squeezed in and glanced at the copy Harry held. Taking a quick sip of juice, she nearly choked as she saw the front page headline, underneath a large picture of Fudge. 

_'Minister faced with Mysterious ailment' _

_Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, as well as three other Ministry members, names not given at the time, have been attacked by something unknown, to the concern of the Wizarding community. Since the full return of He Who Must Not Be Named, it has seemed as if only a matter of time before something truly awful like this would happen, though no one had expected something of this proportion. Fudge and the others are currently in a private ward in St. Mungo's, though no healer has been able to determine what happened, at least until they return to consciousness. A further report will be printed when more information is known, or on the conditions of these people. [See page C8 for a full report on unexplainable conditions in the past.] _

Hermione blinked as she looked away from the paper. Of course they had been expecting something like this of happening, but if Voldemort had been powerful enough to attack the Minister himself, it seemed as if nothing would be able to stop him from taking control of the Ministry. 

She glared over at the Slytherin table and noticed with a shock of rage that they were the loudest table, for the first time she had ever seen. Many seemed to be having unimportant conversations, and only one or two had the _Prophet_ propped open in front of them. Malfoy was whispering with a serious look on his face to Blaise Zabini, but smirked and looked vaguely in the direction of the Head Table. 

Hermione followed his gaze and saw Dumbledore staring straight ahead, not speaking to anyone, even McGonagall, who seemed to be comforting a frightened Sprout. Flitwick and Sinistra were reading the paper, discussing something, while Snape kept throwing suspicious glances toward Dumbledore. Professor Cobbly, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, was muttering to himself, making his hands into fists and releasing them. He glared loathsomely around at anyone who dared make a sound near him. 

"Wow..." Harry muttered from beside her. She sighed loudly, with a flicker of her eyebrows in agreement. Definitely unexpected, after only three weeks of school. 

"Yea," Ron spoke as if in agreement as well, and they were silent again. Neville was shaking violently and Parvati looked incredibly close to tears. Ginny was flipping through the rest of the paper, looking for any additional reports. Several others were reading the follow-up on page C8. The bell rang for the start of classes, but no one seemed very keen to move. A couple stood up half-heartedly, but most stayed sitting. 

Dumbledore stood up loosely, without his usual poise, and several pairs of anxious eyes turned to him, though many were stubbornly not looking from their papers, as though something would change. 

"Obviously the news of today came as quite a shock to many of you, though it should not prevent you from going to your classes," he looked as if he were about to continue on, but instead closed his mouth and sat back down, putting his fingertips together in thought. Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged significant looks at his behaviour; it wasn't often that Dumbledore fell apart like this. 

They slowly gathered their books and headed off silently to Defense Against the Dark Arts. In true tradition, their new teacher was slightly mad, though much better than several previous teachers. He had a strong habit of squinting out of one eye when he spoke about counter-jinxes, and enjoyed mentioning the curses he had used on his enemies at school. Other than that and the fact that he hurried through the corridors always with an ambitious look, he was rather a good teacher. 

When they got there they sat down, pulling out their quills and wands, when Professor Cobbly stormed in minutes later. This morning his expression was almost maniacal, as he had mixed in anger and revenge with the ambition. Also to mention he had his wand raised in front of him, as if about to attack. Hermione noticed he was still muttering to himself, occasionally raising his voice so that she could hear him shouting things in profane language. Ron was snickering beside her, though Harry had remained silent. 

The professor snapped back to his senses as the rest of the class filed in, and began the class. No student was particularly attentive, and they were all restless in their seats, anxious for more information. Eventually it became too much for Cobbly, as he dismissed them early, and they hurried out to discuss the morning's events. 

A group of Slytherins stalked past Harry, Ron and Hermione, laughing loudly and having conversations. Harry glared after them; none of them were even concerned that the head of the Ministry was locked away in St. Mungo's. Malfoy sent a cold sneer in their direction, and Harry glared back, eyes expressing that he was fit to burst with anger. 

"I thought," Harry began quietly, though Malfoy turned to him, eyes burning into his. "That your father wouldn't bother to attack his former boss, or is it just a sort of revenge?" He finished coldly, glare increasing. He felt a glint of satisfaction as Malfoy's smirk faltered slightly. It had been a great downfall to the Malfoy name when Lucius had been removed from the ministry for active Death Eater association. 

"Upset your beloved minister's gone, Potter? He won't be coming back, trust me on that one. It's just too bad the screw ups didn't do the job right, or no one would bother to talk about it," he said, smirking evilly, as the Slytherins around him laughed darkly. Ron raised his wand and moved toward Malfoy, who sidestepped him, as Harry grabbed Ron's arm to hold him back. They laughed louder at this display, and some drew their own wands. 

"Fuck off Weasley, Potter doesn't need you to be his faithful lap dog all the time," Malfoy muttered darkly, as he led the rest of the Slytherins away, leaving Ron to turn a violent shade of crimson. Hermione looked as if she were about to charge Malfoy herself, but instead took a deep breath and moved to comfort Ron. 

The three travelled to Gryffindor Tower with the intent of working on their charms essays. Harry had been entirely too captivated with the floor to be believable, in the thoughts of Hermione. She watched closely as he determinedly ignored her concerned gaze. She sighed heavily, and looked away. If Harry was in such a mood as to keep quite this secretive, he wouldn't have liked her questioning him. 

They took seats at an old, battered table, and Hermione pulled out parchment and a quill to begin her homework. Harry and Ron followed suit, though Harry didn't write a single word. His quill began to drip ink upon his parchment before he noticed Hermione and Ron both watching him. He blinked noticeably, and stared back at them, as if he had done nothing. Hermione shook her head lightly as Harry began his essay. 

"What did he mean, 'do the job right'?" Harry's voice broke the silence ten minutes later. Ron appeared clueless, but Hermione knew he was dwelling on the words of Malfoy. She shrugged loosely, as unsure on the matter as anyone. They went back to work. 

Within another half hour, Hermione had completed her essay, though Ron and Harry were both still struggling on the first few inches. Ron continuously glanced over at hers before she put it into her bag, pulling out a book. Harry made occasional disgruntled noises, and crossed out numerous sentences, having barely increased the amount of writing at all. 

"Can I see your essay just a minute, Hermione? I need to check something," Ron said uncertainly, and gave a significant glance to Harry. 

"Ron, this is the fourth time already this year you've wanted to copy my work," she said disapprovingly, scowling. "How do you expect to get any NEWTs if you don't actually do any work?" 

"That part's easy, I don't plan to get any," he said grinning, though it faded from his face as he saw Hermione's expression. Even Harry looked slightly shocked at this piece of news. 

"May I ask your career plan, Ron?" Hermione asked, trying to stay calm and friendly, though she was desperately fighting to hold back her anger. Here she was, unable to continue on with one of the many professions she would have loved more than anything, while Ron sat with no goals, and no plans for the future. Ron shrugged uncertainly, muttering something indiscernible. 

"Perhaps, you should consider your future the next time you go to steal someone else's report, or at least be grateful you have a future," Hermione burst out, before leaving the room quickly, to avoid the stares around her. She hadn't told anyone about what she had overheard, as she didn't figure many people would care, what with their own worries. 

"...Doesn't have to be such a bitch about it," she heard Ron mutter to Harry as she ran out. 

She stood with her back against the portrait, breathing heavily, desperate to stop the tears threatening to fall. She couldn't believe how immature Ron was being; he didn't even care about his NEWTs, though Hermione knew he'd regret it someday, if he became a dishwasher at the Leaky Cauldron. And for Hermione, it was her last year ever, if anyone was going to blow it but have a great time it should be her. After all, she had worked so hard to get what she had achieved; head girl, smartest in her year. 

A surge of anger filled her. Why wasn't she daring enough to truly enjoy her final year? She began walking, and before she even realized where she was going, she was outside the door to her common room. She sighed, perhaps not quite daring enough to confuse her subconscious. It had managed to trick her into walking all the way towards her own common room. 

Muttering the password, Hermione stepped in, to sit on the couch. On a radical streak of adrenaline, she ignored the many books calling out to be read, and instead pondered what other alternative there was. Homework, of course, but that was worse than reading. At the moment, she wished to be rather opposing towards her own self. She became restless, as she stared around the room, willing something to jump out at her. 

Malfoy. It hit her like a ton of bricks, why hadn't the thought passed her before. Who in the entire school was the least like her? Of course, there was only a rare chance that he would have been up in his room, oblivious to her apparent insanity. She supposed there was only one way to find out. She gave a tiny flick of her wand, with a half smile on her lips, to await a loud bang. 

She sat with bated breath, as only moments later Malfoy wandered down the staircase, and raised an eyebrow as he saw her. 

"What the hell is your problem, Granger?" He asked, though he seemed almost slightly amused as he saw her grinning, wand held up, and the incredibly large pile of books on the floor. 

"I needed to ask you something," she replied simply, giving a light shrug. A look of confusion passed his aristocratic features, before it disappeared and he regained his neutral disposition. 

"Ask Potter," he said shortly, about to retreat back up the staircase still only just behind him. 

"You're the only one who would give me an honest answer," she said truthfully. He seemed deep in contemplation, before he nodded ever so slightly, eyes burning into her soul. 

"Am I a bitch?" She asked, almost timidly, as he reacted quite openly to her question. His lips parted slightly, and he appeared almost incredulous, as he tried to think of an answer that would both confuse and insult her. Failure to do so caused him to sigh heavily, but his lips twitched. 

"You know I'd love to say yes, but why get your hopes up, right? No, you aren't... a bit high strung maybe, but not a bitch," he said simply. She blinked, truly shocked at his answer. "You did want honesty, didn't you?" He asked, as he saw her expression, and she nodded lightly. "But why ask at all? I daren't say the golden trio have been quarreling?" He asked almost mockingly, and she didn't have an answer. 

She was deep in thought, usually he would use something like that to his advantage, to irritate and ridicule her for all it was worth. He must have been in a good mood, she figured, as he shook his head and went out. 


	4. Redemption

I don't own this, except for the plot, and I absolutely adore reviews!

* * *

It was raining. Oh, how she loved the rain. The entire school seemed to fall under the enchantment, under its spell. Late on a Sunday night in October, the occupants of Hogwarts stood with their noses pressed against the magnificent windows, breaths fogging the glass. It came down in torrents, non-stop for absolute hours on end. They filed away, as Hermione retreated to her own dry common room. 

She opened the window of her room, sighing as the cool atmosphere washed over her, and the amazing smell of the fresh rain entered her room. She had made it nearly two months of her final year. So why wasn't it all smooth sailing and happiness as she had expected. Not since that night a few weeks ago had she felt a surge of rebelliousness. The feeling had left as suddenly as it had come, leaving her feeling unexpectedly empty. 

Neither she nor Malfoy had mentioned their brief spell of conversation. To be perfectly honest, she wasn't keen on it ever again. Though she could have enjoyed staying in the same state of mind. Ron had snapped back and begun questioning to see her work again, to which she would stubbornly refuse, and go back to her common room. But what was even there for her? 

She shut her eyes, feeling the light wind wash over her face, giving her a slight chill, which she welcomed after the weeks of monotony. Grabbing a cloak, she walked down the staircase and out of the portrait, ignoring Malfoy staring darkly into the fire. She sneaked through the deserted corridors, on the lookout for Filch or Mrs. Norris. 

She shuddered as the great doors of the entrance hall creaked open; she held on to the handle until it had shut silently. She shivered lightly as she slowly walked out into the pouring rain, drenched within seconds. She trudged through the sodding wet grass, unsure of where she was even going. She was perfectly intent, with no worries. 

She lifted her face up to the sky, welcoming the walls of rain splashing down on her face, eyes barely closed. She gladly welcomed the unpredictability and imperfection that the rain brought. A chance for her to be only herself. She tossed her cloak to the ground carelessly, and stood in silence for what felt like hours, not noticing as the shivering increased. 

Neither did she notice that salty tears had mingled within the water pouring down her cheeks, though she opened her eyes in slight shock. Wiping away a tear, for it to be replaced by the endless rain, she shrugged it off, and began to wander once again. She shuddered involuntarily, as she began shaking harshly. The air was no longer fresh and warm, it had drastically cooled, and she wrapped frozen fingers around her arms, in an attempt to warm up. 

She had left her own thoughts, to notice that she was hardly able to walk, the rain was slowly stopping, but the cool air blew over her, causing her shivering to increase further, to a near violent proportion. She jerked around suddenly, aware of a pair of eyes on her back. Perhaps she was just too numb, but she found she wasn't even surprised to see him standing behind her, oblivious to the cold, staring straight at her. 

Neither moved for a minute, until he slowly walked towards her, platinum hair blowing in the wind. He lifted one surprisingly warm hand and laid it upon her cheek, withdrawing quickly. 

"Are you insane? You're absolutely freezing," he muttered so quietly she had to strain to hear him. She stared into his eyes, shocked beyond measure, but entirely too calm. She knew the leagues of pain she was displaying to him through her own eyes, but he seemed perfectly calm. He gave a small nod, and moved his eyes away slightly. 

She gaped openly, unable to think of anything to say, though she knew she should ask what he was doing. Why Draco Malfoy of all people would follow her into the rain, and then actually show concern. He ran a porcelain hand through his hair, and noticed her cloak lying some distance away. He gently picked it up, and slid it over her shoulders. She watched him with wide eyes, wondering when he would lift the joke and leave her out in the cold. 

He did no such thing, however. 

"You should get inside," he said softly, eyes neutral. She stared at him questioningly, surprised at his tone. She opened her mouth to say something... she didn't know what. Thank him perhaps? Ask what had changed, or what was the matter with him? Before she could utter a single frozen syllable, his eyes transformed as he shot her a dangerous glance. She was quite taken aback after his former behaviour. 

He saw her timidity, as he softened slightly, gave her a puzzled sidelong glance, and turned to walk back to the castle, not looking back. She slowly followed, in a hypothermic daze all the way to her common room. She stared at the clock as she got back inside; it read 4:00 AM. What was Malfoy doing up at 4 on a school night rescuing her from the rain? He had already, it seemed, gone up to his room. 

She didn't dwell much on the topic, but instead wearily climbed the stairs to her own room, collapsing into the warm comforter the moment she got in, eyes shut with sleep in an instant. 

"You know, Granger, I reckon McGonagall nearly had a heart attack when she noticed you weren't in class today," he drawled, eyes gleaming with mirth. 

She shrugged, a small smile twisting at her lips. "Just wish I could've seen it," she said finally. It had been his challenge for her to skip an entire day of classes. She had known the repercussions it could have, and still listened. 

"Why?" She had asked the day before. He shrugged. 

"I don't think you have the guts," he had said back, eyes glowing. Neither had mentioned anything about the challenge being initiated, but Hermione had taken all her self control and stayed in the common room the entire day. 

There was a sharp rap at the portrait, jolting her back to the present. Hermione grudgingly got up, ignoring the dark looks Draco was sending across the room at the door. It almost seemed as if he had lightened up, while in her presence. She wouldn't have dared to call it anything like a friendship... more like a mutual tolerance, with occasional conversation. 

Harry and Ron ran in as soon as the door had opened, and immediately took places on one couch. Draco gave a distasteful glare in their direction, as he moved as far away as he could get. Hermione gave him a glance, but he only met her eyes with coldness. She hated how he would lock himself back up if anyone else was around. Particularly Harry and Ron. 

"Are you feeling alright, Hermione? Not sick?" Harry asked anxiously, as Ron looked at her curiously. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," she brushed it off, standing to conjure some drinks for them. "Just didn't feel like classes today is all." She shot a quick glance at Draco, who raised an eyebrow, as the corners of his mouth almost twitched upwards. He seemed to be enjoying the expressions on Harry and Ron's faces though, and he looked fit to burst out laughing. 

"Can we talk to you alone, Hermione?" Harry asked through clenched teeth, as the grin faded from his enemy's face. Draco got up harshly, and walked past Harry, muttering something that only he could hear. Harry appeared outraged, and Draco walked away, smirk once again plastered evilly to his lips. Ron drew his wand, though Hermione merely watched the retreat of her roommate. 

"Do you think maybe you're getting too close to Malfoy, Hermione?" Harry asked angrily. She brought her gaze back to her friends, giving her dark looks. 

"What do you mean?" She asked honestly. For all she knew, her and Malfoy did nothing but talk occasionally. 

"I mean, that's a death eater you're getting all chummy with, skipping classes with," he replied, glaring at her. She turned to Ron, who was also glaring with an equal amount of anger in his eyes, directed at her. 

"I didn't skip with him... it was just his idea," she said weakly, warmth fading quickly from her mind. 

"Now you listen to what he tells you rather than what you know is right?" Ron cut in, starting to shout. 

"No, I follow my own ideas, Ron, even if I need a break some days. You aren't the only one allowed to slack occasionally, and take the work from someone else," she gave him a cold stare, and Ron looked away in disbelief. 

"Picking up habits from him now? He's the only one I've met who uses his own glare to manipulate and trick people," Harry broke in as well. She hadn't even noticed it, as she relaxed her gaze, staring at her disbelieving best friends. She looked between them, each staring at her, angry, upset, and cold towards her. She felt guilty of betrayal... but what had she done? Skipped one day? It's not like that was grounds for expulsion or anything, she thought angrily. 

They each shot her one last dirty look, before trudging toward the portrait, and left without looking back. 

Stunned at what had occurred, she laid down on the couch, with her knees bent, feet on the far end as she closed her eyes. She was beyond confused; what had gotten into them? It's not like she was sleeping with the enemy or anything... They had clearly overreacted. Wrapping her arms tight around her, she gave into the urge to let a tear slide down her cheek, and another... and another... 

He walked gracefully down the stairs, an hour later, as he felt sure that Potter and Weasley would have done him a favour and disappeared by then. He was shocked to see Hermione, with her eyes tightly shut, silent tears streaming rapidly down her cheeks. Over the time they had shared a common room, Draco had taken to watching his roomate; she was beyond interesting. She was still the bookworm she had always been, though something had changed. 

No longer was Granger so bossy and stuck up, and she didn't frantically wait to be called on in class. She sat quietly, took notes, and left quietly. If asked a question, she would put a half-hearted answer out, though only an essential answer, nothing extra. In the common room she would often stare into the fire, or write when they didn't even have an essay. She had stopped criticizing him, even when Potter and Weasley did. In reality, he wouldn't even be able to term her an enemy anymore, and he certainly didn't hate her. 

That didn't mean he felt anything for her either. Though he had to wonder why she was on the couch, crying her emotions out, unaware he was even there. He walked closer to her, staring intently, until she noticed his presence, and her eyes shot open. She stared blankly, not even bothering to lift a hand and wipe the tears away. 

Neither spoke for a minute, before Draco jerked his gaze away, sitting down in an armchair, and looking instead at the fire. 

"Spill," he stated simply. It wasn't cold and demanding, but not warm either. It was more a statement, disguising itself as a question, and it threw her off guard. "You keep too much to yourself; you'll blow up some day," he continued matter-of-factly. 

"I keep to myself? Coming from the king of mystery?" She asked, voice strangely high-pitched. "Sorry, it's just Harry and Ron." 

"I know, I knew it had to be, what did they do was what I meant," he said simply. 

"Behaved as usual guys would, mainly assholes," she said, with a slight grin. He looked a tad rejected, though he said nothing. "Got mad at me, mad at you, mainly. They seem to think living with you has corrupted me," she said, shrugging. 

"I should certainly hope so," he said absent mindedly, and she hit him lightly on the arm, as he gave her a wicked grin. On one of the rare moments where he opened at all, Hermione had started to notice she enjoyed when he showed emotion. The most she had ever seen however, were sardonic grins, and slight frowns, though she couldn't help but think that maybe just someday she might see more... 

"Can I ask you something?" He asked, leaning back in his chair, eyes fogged over in thought. 

"Yes, you may ask another something," she stated, as his lips twitched. 

"What compels you to be so bloody perfect, Granger? You've got it all... perfect grades, high morals," he said, looking thoughtful, perhaps wondering about himself. "Great friends, though I may not happen to think so, you're absolutely beautiful..." he trailed off, as she looked directly at him. 

"I'm not..." she shrugged, looking away. 

"I wouldn't say you were if you weren't," he said with a simple honesty, that she knew he was truthful. "But why? Do you need it, or do you even want it? It seems to me as if you're about ready to burst, that you don't even want perfection," he continued on, almost with an edge of desperation to his tone. 

"I hate it..." she whispered, and he didn't appear in the least shocked. "I want... I don't know what I want... I guess I want to be more like you," she admitted, glancing at him, to gauge his reaction. 

"Me? You mean, cold-hearted, bitter, angry, hated and downright sexy?" He asked, in a perfectly serious tone that she couldn't help but laugh. 

"No, I mean like freer, able to live life, unhindered by petty grades. You're perfect, and you know it, don't deny it, Malfoy, you're just a bit lacking in the human emotions department," she explained. 

"Then obviously I'm not perfect," he countered. 

"You..." she continued on, "you're not afraid to skip class, or lie to a teacher, you aren't worried when you get detention. Me... I go crazy if I forget an assignment until the day before, I'm not able to even break away, to do anything truly wrong," she realized she was babbling, and fully expected him to have walked away, though he was still staring intently at her. Damn those eyes, she thought, with their intoxicating fire. 

"Honestly, Granger, what do you think of me?" He asked, lips curved into a smirk. 

"I suppose, you're the person who's tormented me and my best friends since first year, until only recently; you're the epitome of badness, wrongness, and everything I could never be," she said sadly. "What do you even want?" 

"Granger let me try something... an experiment maybe," he said after a while, as he stood and walked to her couch. "Stand up," he said softly, and she did as he asked. 

He lifted a pale, slender hand to her tear-stained cheek, moving in drastically, until he captured her lips with his. Out of pure shock and instinct, she lifted a hand to push him away, though stopped halfway through the gesture. His lips on hers felt incredible; she was burning inside, though she never wanted the feeling to diminish. Instead she placed her hand lightly on his shoulder, and slowly, began to kiss him back. She gasped slightly as he bit lightly on her lower lip, and his tongue slipped into her open mouth. 

Her mind was screaming at her; this is your enemy! Her mind didn't seem to be presently able to control her actions however, as she began to respond further to his advances, and she felt his hot, wonderful hands moving against her. She lay her other hand on his chest, giving in to the feelings, and the pure thrill of Malfoy. She was doing something she had never imagined, something incredibly bad. Something reckless. 

As suddenly as he had began, he stopped, pulling away, eyes filled with something Hermione couldn't place. He seemed to be watching her closely, as her breathing slowly returned to normal, and she looked at him inquisitively. 

"If I'm the epitome of wrongness," he breathed, right against her ear, "then you've just done something 'truly wrong'." She gaped wildly at him, that was what she had said... but she most definitely wasn't expecting him to do that. "You really shouldn't do that, you look like a fish out of water, Granger." He smirked widely, staring into her own eyes, almost challenging. 

He took a glance at the clock on the table beside the couch. "Good night, Granger," he said softly. He walked nearly to the stairs before he turned around. "Oh, and as for what I want... I desire above all, redemption."


	5. Enigma

She sat absent-mindedly doodling on a spare piece of parchment in Transfiguration the next day, not even bothered to pay attention. Entirely too much information was racing through her brain. Less than 12 hours ago, Draco Malfoy had kissed her! Supposedly her sworn enemy. As confused as she was, she was seemingly unable to stop the horrid thoughts as they swam through her mind. She had enjoyed it. 

It was unlike any other kiss she had ever received; it was hot and intense, yet still gentle. Somehow she couldn't get over the feelings of his experienced hands, his skilled tongue. Most of all she couldn't remove the image of his silver eyes just after... with something that almost hit her as a form of lust... but that wouldn't be possible. There was no way she could reduce him to showing such emotion. 

She knew there was nothing imaginable she could ever want or get from him; it had clearly been a one time thing. But why had he done it? Hermione knew as well as anyone his reputation around the school; it was said there hadn't been such a womanizer at Hogwarts since Sirius Black, and Malfoy could definitely give a good fight for the title, even with his dark demeanor. She had always wondered why other girls were so excited at a chance with him... and couldn't help but thinking she was one of them. 

She looked at the next table over, Ron and Harry were stubbornly ignoring her. She sighed, as she supposed it wasn't entirely untruthful what they had said about her and Malfoy being too close. She tried to stop a sly grin from sliding onto her lips, what would they say if they ever found that out? 

Across the room, he sat, quill poised, with a bored look on his face as he listened to the Professor. His cold silver eyes were slightly unfocused, as he gazed into the board. She was discontent as she realized he wasn't paying her the slightest notice, unless of course he didn't know she was looking. She stared at his eyes, utterly transfixed. Why was he so damn perfect... and why was she behaving like Lavender would after a date with one of the many boys in the school? 

It was just a simple kiss, it hadn't even meant anything. He had only done it to prove she could do something imperfect. It was probably only to his own benefit. A surge of anger at herself for thinking it was actually something flowed through her veins. The anger was closely followed by guilt. Why was she even thinking this? He was a Death Eater; she would have to fight against him in mere months, she was sure. 

But the fire in his lips had felt so wonderful... 

"Damn it!" She shouted, out loud on accident, before quickly putting a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. The entire class turned to look at her, and she noticed a gleam of shock in Malfoy's eyes, though it was almost as if he was laughing at her. Harry and Ron gave her suspicious looks, but glanced away quickly. 

"Something you'd like to share, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked with an edge to her voice. 

"No, Professor, sorry," she apologized quietly. 

"Very well... ten points from Gryffindor for class disturbances," the professor said before she walked away. Most of the Slytherins laughed or smirked, but she noticed Malfoy only had a small frown. McGonagall had been rather cold towards her since she saw her at the breakfast table that morning in perfect health, and felt it was too soon to recover after a full day of illness. 

Some of the Gryffindors complained and shot her dirty looks, and she blushed bright pink. McGonagall had never taken points from her before. She saw Malfoy smirking, though it was at her, and he raised an eyebrow as he saw her looking. She gave a weak grin and shook her head, as he turned back to his work. 

Oh, how he confused her. Even his name. Malfoy was so hateful when she said it, it reminded her of when he was an enemy. But then of course Draco was much too friendly for the level they were on. She had to stick with his surname, though it displeased her. Somehow she didn't mind when he called her Granger; actually she quite enjoyed it in his drawl. She doubted she would have felt comfortable if he called her Hermione anyway. She would have just preferred if he were just "he", it would take the complexity out of things. Of course, everyone needs a name. 

The bell finally rang, and she hurried to leave, as he walked past her table, discreetly shoving a note into her hand. Shocked, she left the class, parchment clutched tightly in her palm, before she unfolded it, and stared blankly. He continued to confuse her in everything he did, even with just two words. 

_Damn what?_

She closed her eyes a moment, as students raced by her to dinner, and she remembered her outburst in class. With a slight grin, she put the paper into her bag, figuring maybe she'd answer him later. She ate quickly with Ginny, and hurried to the common room to get a start on her huge Arithmancy assignment. Twenty minutes later he walked in, and noticed her so he sat down at the table she was working at. 

"Did you get 22 d?" He asked. She shrugged. 

"No, that one's confusing me actually," she admitted, flipping the page of her workbook. 

"Damn. I would ask someone else but no one else in our class is worth talking to," he said thoughtfully. She was worth talking to? And the puzzlement continues... 

"It would probably help if there were more than seven people in the class," she replied jokingly. It was a large piece of humour at the small number of students attempting NEWT arithmancy that year. He let out a slight laugh, before skimming the work she had done. 

"No, that one's 27 and an eighth," he said frowning. "There's the mistake," he said, pointing to one line of work. 

"Thanks," she said quietly, as she changed her answer. "Did you get this one?" She asked, pointing at 34 c. 

"Mm... yup, you've just got to worry about the eight in the fourth line of the question, you've got a nine," he pointed out as she blushed to a dull pink, again fixing her answer. 

"Are you done the entire thing?" She asked in disbelief. 

"I wasn't hungry at lunch," he said with a shrug. He pulled out his book, as she glanced at another question. 

"I got 43 for that one," she said, frowning. He skimmed it, and noticed his error. 

"Thank you," he said, grinning. 

"You should do that more often," she said, staring at him. 

"Get questions wrong and look like a total dumbass, you mean?" He asked seriously. She laughed and he couldn't hold back a smirk. 

"No... smile," she said, looking away slightly. He frowned. 

"Happiness is overrated," he stated shortly, his voice losing its joking manner, falling cold and harsh within an instant. She felt bad to have said anything; he seemed to have closed himself back up. 

"Sorry," she muttered, getting back to her problems. He said nothing, just stared into the blazing fire, but didn't move away. She stumbled upon a difficult question, and he watched her work at it. Finally he sighed and took the quill out of her hand, filling in the correct number. She gave him a grateful smile, but he didn't seem to have seen her. There was a long silence. 

"You never replied to my letter," he said, not looking away from the fire. She reached into her bag, and pulled out the crumpled parchment. He shook his head when he saw that she hadn't even written anything on it. "It's impolite to ignore someone's question, you know," he turned to her. 

She set her workbook aside, and posed her quill over the letter. 

_Damn..._

"I honestly don't know," she said, conceding defeat. He looked disappointed. 

"Obviously it was something, if it both threw off your concentration, and made you lose points from Gryffindork," he joked. She sighed, setting down the quill, careful not to drip ink. 

"I guess... it was you, you're just so... confusing," she finished lamely. He raised an eyebrow, but waited for her to continue. "I mean... why did you kiss me?" He looked thoughtful for a moment, but it passed. 

"I felt like it, not to mention you needed something to break you away from perfection evidently," he said, shrugging. "Didn't exactly seem like you hated it," his eyes glowed evilly, and he smirked at the bright shade of pink she had turned. He had felt like it? That wasn't much of a reason at all, considering who she was speaking with. 

"Malfoy, I'm not going to be one of your little whores you can turn to every time you want a shag," she stated angrily. He looked shocked. "I'm not quite that stupid," she finished. 

"Of course you aren't," he agreed. "Is that what you thought it was?" She shrugged nervously. "I know you're way too intelligent for that, Granger." 

There it was again, Granger. Inside she was actually quite happy that it was no longer "Mudblood" or anything of the sort. But she couldn't help but let out a hidden sigh, as if she were missing something, that perhaps was just out of sight, beyond surnames. 

She truly didn't know how to react to his comment, so she lifted her quill once more and turned back to her work. 

"You're angry," he stated simply, watching her carefully. 

"I'm not," she replied sniffily. 

"You are, you're spilling ink all over the page," he concluded, as she hastily wiped it up and redid the question. "What did you expect it was, Granger?" 

"I don't know, apparently not that you 'felt like it.' Honestly, Malfoy after the last six years, what would you have expected?" He smirked. 

"I woulda slapped myself in the face and stormed away, to tell the truth. I happen to know that I'm an ass," he said simply. 

"Yes that's true," she said, frowning, something else was still bothering her. "Why do you desire redemption?" His parting words had been annoying her more than she had thought. He sighed heavily. 

"I'll save that one for another day," he said softly, and she knew not to challenge it further. There was a knock on the portrait and he got up to open it. Hermione saw Mandy Brocklehurst standing in the door, who waved, and Hermione smiled back. He talked to her for a few minutes, and she left silently. 

"What'd she want?" Hermione asked, not looking up from her math. 

"Wanted to know if I was busy tonight," he said, sitting back down with a sigh. "But I told her I was already doing something," he shrugged. 

"You didn't have to..." she trailed off, looking at him sideways. 

"Please, what kind of cold-hearted son-of-a-Malfoy would I be if I left you to do this assignment on you own?" He stated. "And besides... she whimpers," he added as an afterthought, wrinkling his nose in slight distaste. 

"Definitely didn't need to know, thanks," she said, looking away. 

"No problem." 

The both fell silent, though he occasionally helped her out with a question, in between working on a potions essay due the next week. She finished and pulled out a herbology assignment, and didn't finish until well past midnight. Surprisingly he didn't even move, just waited patiently for her to finish. He yawned widely, and put his essay back into his bag. 

"You could have gone to sleep, you know," she told him. 

"I'm not tired," he said defensively, as he yawned again. "Alright, so I am. But I couldn't leave you down here alone, imagine how many more questions you would have gotten wrong," he smirked. She stiffened as he reached out a hand, but he merely brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear, though she shivered at the contact. It wasn't as if she had expected him to kiss her again or anything. 

"Goodnight," he whispered, as he went up the staircase and into his own room, Hermione following closely behind. She yawned, as she turned to her own room instead, and fell asleep almost instantaneously.

* * *

Her eyes fluttered open sleepily, and she tried to crawl further under the sheets, until she saw him standing over her. Her eyes shot open, and she gave him a curious look. 

"It's past ten, we missed Herbology," he said calmly, as she jumped up, quickly turning hysterical. She frantically checked every clock she could see, but without any evidence to prove it was just a cruel joke. 

"Shit," she said simply, as she shoved him out of the room, closing the door. She quickly dressed and reopened it moments later, and he was still standing there, staring into the door. "How long were you watching me?" She asked suspiciously. 

"Only a minute or so," he replied nonchalantly. "I couldn't bring myself to wake you up." 

She gave a weak grin, before hurrying out of the common room. "We can still make potions on time," she said nervously. A detention with Sprout was nothing, but with Snape... 

She began walking quickly, resisting the urge to break into a run, though he walked on leisurely behind her. She sent him a short glare, and he gave her an amused glance. She kept sending him irritated looks until eventually he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around to face him. 

"You realize the classroom is one hallway away, and we've still got ten minutes?" He asked calmly, staring into her eyes, confused at her urgency. She looked behind her, realizing his words were true, and she relaxed visibly. She sighed and slowed down dramatically, walking in pace with him. Occasionally he would look over under the pretense of ensuring she was still fine, although he took it as a chance to watch her outside of the common room. 

They walked into the room, and the class quieted deliberately. Malfoy scowled at everyone, and sat down at a table, and she looked around for a spot. Harry and Ron were glaring at her, purposely taking up the entire table, and she saw Draco's eyes light up temporarily. She followed his gaze, and saw him looking at her friends. She sent him a warning look, though he brushed it off, with a serious look. 

"You want them back?" He asked in a whisper, so no one else would notice. She nodded her head, biting her lower lip to hold back from saying anything. He gave a slight grin, before his eyes turned cold towards her. She knew what he was about to do a second before he did it, and her eyes widened in horror, and she stepped toward him. 

"Get away, Mudblood, how many times do I need to tell you," he spat coldly, as the class fell silent once more. They turned to stare at him, and await a reaction from her. Just like so many times before, she thought sadly, unwilling to reply. 

"I don't listen to ferrets, sorry Malfoy," she said after a pause, attempting coldness. She knew her eyes reflected the sadness she felt, and she noticed Harry stand up beside her, apparently deciding he cared more about Hermione than Malfoy. 

"Yeah, leave her alone, git," he said, eyes blazing, before he pulled Hermione over to their table. He gave an unconcerned shrug, though he shot her a quick smirk. He saw how close she was to tears, and his eyes softened slightly. He closed his eyes shortly, and opened them again to her, showing regret for his harsh words. She was shocked; how could he let out only a portion of the emotion he was feeling? She jerked her eyes away as she heard Ron muttering darkly about Malfoy to her. It wasn't all bad, at least Ron and Harry were considerably warmer to her, his plan had worked. 

She shot Malfoy one more confused glance, as Snape walked in, and began the lesson, and nothing more was to be said among hasty copying and precise measurements.


	6. Unpredictable

Meh another chapter... up in time for my birthday tomorrow :D (Monday) Anyway, ideas, construction, and feedback are always welcome :)

* * *

He had been rather distant lately. During the times he wasn't alone in his room, or keeping to himself, brooding, he was talking only to Blaise Zabini. To anyone else it wouldn't be anything of a bother, though Hermione had become concerned. It wasn't exactly an abrupt change; though the turning point seemed to count back to the last Tuesday at breakfast. She often heard him moving about in the night; she knew he wasn't getting much rest. 

In class he often fell asleep, not even bothering to attempt at listening. In the classes he stayed awake, such as potions, he didn't take notes, and didn't try to use the correct ingredients. Hermione was beyond worried. It wasn't as if he would ever tell her what was the matter, but she still felt a type of unspoken bond tying her to her roommate, even if he didn't know it. 

She walked into the common room, tossing her bag on a chair with a sigh of exhaustion and froze. He was lying on the couch, feet away, unmistakably sleeping. She was reluctant to wake him, though she needed to get her homework done, so she drew it from her bag, and set to work at the table. She looked up as she heard him stir, and his eyes slowly opened, staring around out of focus. 

She gasped in horror. He had obviously been unable to cover his eyes as he was sleeping, and barely conscious, he hadn't had time to replace the cold mask. She saw unbelievable pain and hatred buried in the dark silver depths. The sadness and anger penetrating from them made her shudder and look away in fear. But it was mainly the pain... leagues of pain representing 17 hateful years. He blinked... and it all vanished. 

He stared at her expression in confusion, and realization hit him. 

"You didn't..." he began, but was unable to continue from the frightened look she was still giving him. He sighed heavily. "Fuck..." he muttered to himself, running a hand through his soft platinum hair, waking himself up. 

"How do you do that? How is it possible for you to-" she began hopelessly. 

"You tell no one you saw that," he threatened, cutting her off. "Alright? No one _ever_ needs to know what you saw," he said, eyes regaining their cold disposition, and burning into her. She looked away, nodding weakly. What ever had happened to the man who she was able to talk to comfortably just weeks ago. 

"Wait, you know that's all there? Did someone else see?" She broke in out of curiosity. 

"Once," he said bitterly, looking down at the ground. She knew he was uncomfortable, and the last thing she wanted was to make him feel worse, but she figured he must have been immune to such minuscule things? She never would have fathomed all that was held beneath those silver orbs. "Promise me, Granger..." he said, eyes begging her. Not realizing how it could be such a big deal, she shrugged loosely. She gave a slight nod, and he relaxed visibly. 

"What's happened to you, just lately? You've closed up again," she said looking away, not truly knowing why she had asked. It was the last thing she wanted him to know; that she was watching him closely. 

"You wouldn't understand," he said heavily. "And if you did, you'd most likely tail it off to the ministry as fast as humanly possible," he finished. She assumed he knew something dark, that he would never tell her. 

"I wouldn't give away your secrets unless someone's life was in danger," she said honestly. 

"Yeah, that changes everything, I definitely can't tell you now," he said with a type of sour smirk. He broke as he saw her weak expression, lips slightly parted, staring into the table. "Alright, if you must know, it seems as if you know everything anyway," he mumbled, though she looked up at him. "Fudge is recovering; they never planned for him to, he's got too many secrets he was never supposed to know in the first place, it's very bad news. Of course, I can't tell you the secrets, it's all really good for your side, I suppose." 

She was truly shocked as to why he told her. Why would he give away valued information from the dark side? Especially to her; who could summon many members of the Order at the blink of an eye. True to her word, however, she wouldn't tell anyone what he had said. She realized she wasn't thinking rationally, but he had just reopened slightly, she didn't want to lose it again. 

"Are you...?" she began hesitantly, but he caught on. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing two pale, but otherwise unmarked forearms. 

"No, I'm not," he said rather harshly. "Did you expect me to be?" He asked with sick humour. She truthfully didn't know how to answer this, she merely shrugged, gaping at him. He let out a soft laugh, and she wondered if had perhaps gone mad. 

"Do you have any idea what you've done to me this year, Granger?" He asked her, lips twisting slightly. She was shocked, she had done something to affect him? Simply preposterous. She shook her head, feeling guilty. Had she perhaps been part of the reason he had become distant? "Blaise noticed," he continued on, unconcerned. "He says you're good, that I've changed. Do you see it Granger?" He asked, staring into her soft brown eyes. He was unsure as to what had happened himself, but didn't expect her to have noticed. 

She stared back into his enigmatic eyes; sometimes bright and sometimes dark. He was truly impossible to discover anything about, yet he had handed her his open soul, on a platter. To cut up as she pleased. She was speechless, opening her mouth uselessly, as she stared at him. She shut her eyes, wishing she was anywhere else at this particular moment. He looked almost disappointed as he averted his gaze, and she felt a strong sense of loss. As if she had been removed from the warm embrace of her comforter in the winter time. 

He shook his head, and stood up. "Never mind, I shouldn't have asked," he muttered, and turned around to leave, as she found her voice. 

"Yes... I have," she said clearly, standing to go after him. He slowly turned around as she reached him, the two much closer than either had anticipated, though neither moved away. 

She felt his eyes search deep into her soul, and she shuddered involuntarily, closing her eyes lightly. In an odd way, she hoped that perhaps he had given up, walked away. She opened her eyes cautiously, to see him still staring at her desperately, it seemed. 

"How?" he asked softly. For whatever reason he had to continuously probe her mind, deeper and deeper, she felt sorry for him. For the first time, he showed weakness, on a level she had never expected. She opened her mouth, searching the carpet, in case it were to provide an answer. Why now? Any time before she would have given anything for him to open up further. And now... he stood before her, nearly begging for her to help him. She felt she couldn't handle it. He sighed in frustration and she flinched, as he turned away up the stairs. 

Oh, how she wanted to go after him, to spill her mind to him. But how would that be possible? She knew he would scorn her, or laugh... though in his present situation she wasn't sure. She lifted one heavy foot, it had turned into lead she was sure, and slowly started up the stairs. She realized she had no clue what she would do or say. And she liked it. 

Her eyes lit up with a sudden burst of energy, and she ran up the remaining stairs, intent on finding him now. She reached the top, and saw with a small jolt his door was shut. Gathering up her strength, she knocked on the door, and received no answer. 

"Malfoy, I've got to talk to you," she said quite lamely, feeling her energy slowly ooze away from her. So much for euphoria. She was about to say something more when the door opened, and he gazed at her with a neutral expression. His lips showed no sign of a frown or smile, his eyes had their wall ever so tightly secured. He looked tired. She could see it much better now; he was simply exhausted. 

"So speak," he said shortly, walking back into the room. She followed slowly, she had never been in his room before, and wasn't quite sure how he would react. 

"Look, Malfoy, I don't know if this will answer your question downstairs," she said honestly, determined not to be disheartened. "But it's the best I can come up with for such an inquisition." She looked at him tentatively, he shrugged for her to continue. "This year... I don't know what changed or where, but you... you've helped me so much. I no longer know exactly what I'm doing all the time, I realized that, and it's fabulous. I've changed too, because of you." She said, not quite as proud as she had been when the thoughts hit her. He looked confused, but said nothing. "I honestly don't know what I'm trying to say," she said with a slight grin. 

He gave a slight laugh. "You know, in potions the other day, I didn't mean to call you... you know," he admitted out of nowhere. She nodded. "You don't think I'm going too soft, do you?" He asked in mock concern. She laughed. 

"No, don't worry, your Malfoy honour is still upheld," she replied, grinning. He gave a half smile as he turned serious and his eyes softened. He reached out and twirled a curl in his fingers, not making eye contact. She tensed as she felt his hot breath flutter across her face. For one moment she stood shocked, but immediately loosened. 

"Ever since..." he mumbled absent mindedly, though she wasn't sure if she was meant to listen. He leaned in, and she couldn't even anticipate it before his lips brushed against hers. Her head exploded with the overwhelming heat of the contact, but she jerked away as someone knocked loudly on the portrait downstairs. 

"Damn it," she whispered to himself, as she turned to leave the room, but he reached out for her instead, and kissed her again with more force. Her mind began reeling, as she went slightly dizzy. His touch was much more desirous and passionate than before; she didn't know if she would be able to take it. She gave in, and kissed him back with an equal fervour, deepening the kiss. He pulled her closer as she fell into him, indulging in the elation she was feeling. 

They were both seemingly oblivious to the increasingly louder knocking coming from downstairs. He finally snapped to his senses and pulled away slowly. 

"We should get that," he mumbled against her lips, as she nodded slightly, breathing heavily. Neither moved however, as the insistent banging continued. He appeared thoughtful, as he sighed. "Right, prefect's meeting. Damn," she gasped as she remembered as well. She let out a groan and buried her face into his chest, as he raised an amused eyebrow at her. 

Slowly she moved away from him, shuddering at the loss of warmth, and stalked down the stairs, opening the door with a less than enthusiastic disposition. He watched as several angry looking prefects followed in, but he was more focused on the dark haired Gryffindor. What was she doing to him? Never before had he felt something near this magnitude towards another human. Towards anything, really. He'd never kissed anyone quite like he was compelled to with her, and it bothered him. She was just intriguing was all it was... 

He slowly walked down the stairs, and sent her a slight grin as he saw her, amidst the scrambling fifth and sixth years. This was the part about Head Boy he hated the most, though he had to admit it wasn't all bad. Most of the school were too scared of him anyway. 

Over the next two rather unproductive hours, Hermione caught him staring at her more than once, and attempting to fight back a smile, she went through their agenda set down by the Headmaster. Meanwhile Draco sat sullenly, not bothering to involve himself in the discussion. He couldn't have cared what they were planning, since the prefects never did much. 

When it finally ended he shook himself to get out of his dazed stupor, as he watched Hermione speak shortly to Ginny Weasley. Hermione nodded and left the common room, shooting him a slight grin. He made no sign of a reply and left the room. 

"You realize Harry and Ron are just trying to protect you from Malfoy right, Hermione?" Ginny asked her on the way to the common room. Hermione shrugged, not particularly enjoying the topic of discussion. 

"They think I have no common sense and can't protect myself?" She asked angrily. 

"Of course not, Mione... I was wondering though. Is something going on between the two of you? This meeting didn't seem as tense as the others, and I'm not blind, I saw the looks he was giving you," she said, grinning slightly. Hermione sighed, but couldn't stop a small grin from escaping. Ginny laughed softly. 

"I honestly don't know what's going on, we haven't talked about it or anything," Hermione said in practicality, though she thought there was at least something happening. "Don't tell Harry and Ron?" she asked hesitantly and Ginny smiled. 

"Of course not. He may be on the other side, but he's definitely the hottest guy in school. But just... do be careful? I've seen too many fall into his trap," she warned. Hermione grinned, slightly relieved that she could at least have someone to believe her. 

They went into the common room, and Hermione nearly forgot her problems as they had fun with the rest of Gryffindor, though she felt a pang of guilt that she hadn't been in to see everyone more often. She also felt something of remorse when she knew she wouldn't see any of these people again after June. In actuality, she didn't think she would have enjoyed graduating from Hogwarts with many different people, with the exception of Ginny of course. 

She savoured the friendships she held, watching her friends play Exploding Snap and Wizard's Chess, as she heard a light knocking on the window. She turned casually and saw a school owl carrying a copy of the _Evening Prophet _tightly in its claws, trying frantically to get in. She opened the window and it flew in, throwing the paper on the couch and she paid it. 

Ginny walked over as she lifted the paper and gaped, as Hermione let out a soft scream. 


	7. Insatiable

Sorry this has taken a while... writer's block is my worst enemy. I hope you enjoy this chapter, although the earliest the next one can be up is next Saturday, because I'm going away for a week. Have a great summer, everyone! And as always, keep the reviews coming =) By the way, I just saw Cruel Intentions... does Ryan Phillipe in that movie remind anyone else rather strongly of Draco?

* * *

"That's awful," Ginny breathed next to her, as Hermione snapped out of her thoughts. The room fell silent as they noticed the two horror-struck girls. Hermione jerked her eyes away, staring into the carpet deep in thought. She had known. Would she have been able to prevent this had she hurried away when he told her? She never would have imagined. A strong rush of guilt and hatred ran through her, and she scanned the article again.

Harry swore lightly from behind her shoulder, as she turned around and saw half of the Gryffindors crowded around, staring wide-eyed. 

_'Fudge murdered without possible meaning'_

_Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic has been killed this afternoon, November the 3rd, after a supposed group of unknown people stormed his private ward in St. Mungo's, somehow managing to set several death curses to the unfortunate man, under the eyes of hospital staff, without even being noticed. There seems no reason for this attack, after the previous one several weeks ago, though seemingly He Who Must Not Be Named is clearly determined to make himself known once again. "Perhaps whoever wanted him dead in the first place came to finish him off," said a frazzled Mediwitch at the scene shortly after. Many others believe it may have been Fudge himself under the Imperius. The other wizards he was originally attacked with [names still undisclosed] have fallen into worse conditions, one even into a comatose state. Whatever is being planned next, we send our sincerest apologies to the family and friends of this poor man, and hope we can be better prepared next time. If those responsible for this murder are caught, they will await a lifetime sentence in Azkaban, with trial for a Dementor's Kiss._

Her grip fell lose as several younger students stole the paper from Hermione's grasp, and hurried off, speaking loudly to one another. She slumped over in a chair, followed closely by Harry, Ron and Ginny. Harry was staring into the fire, emerald eyes blazing with hatred. Ron was muttering something, glancing at Harry, and Ginny had silent tears running down her cheeks. Hermione shut her eyes and ran a hand through her thick hair, imagining herself to wake up any time now. 

"Do you see what you get for fraternizing with people like that, Hermione?" Ron broke the tense silence after a pause. "You get pain, torture and death," he said, every syllable positively shaking with rage. Harry looked up insightfully, as his bright eyes narrowed slightly. Hermione winced, and he turned his gaze on her. 

"I don't 'fraternize' with Death Eaters, Ron," she said in an indignant tone. "And if you needed to know, Malfoy doesn't even have the Dark Mark," she said distastefully, interpreting his next words. 

"He would obviously use a concealment charm," Ron retorted whole-heartedly. 

"Have you gone mad? You can't _conceal _ the Dark Mark, Ron." She muttered in true shock. "The Ministry will have thought of that, and the magic's too different to work with ordinary spells. If everyone did that, then there would be no way to ever tell who is a death eater and who isn't, unless they admit it themselves, and even then it could be under an Imperius curse, by a real Death Eater, so no one would ever be caught," she stated quite loudly, as Ron seemed to distinctly shrink in his seat. 

"And you just know he doesn't have the mark?" Harry broke in, anger pouring through his words. "Show you in bed, did he?" He said, voice getting louder. Hermione glared at him, full of anger to this man who had been her best friend for six years. "He would love nothing better than to see you dead, Hermione," he finished strongly, looking away from her. Hermione looked weakly at Ginny, who seemed stunned that Harry would say something like that. 

"Fuck you, Harry," Hermione muttered darkly. "I'm on your side, you know. I would _never_ betray you, but just go right ahead and hate me for it anyway. See if I give a shit," she said exhaustedly, as she left the common room. She was so tired of them thinking she was out to cross over to the dark side, she almost considered it for a moment, just to spite them. The hateful thoughts quickly evaporated from her mind, as she began to walk. 

Twenty minutes later Ginny found her sitting by the lake, arms wrapped around her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. Ginny sat down next to her friend, and was silent for a moment, in contemplation. 

"I told him off, you know. Harry," she said softly, looking into the lake. "He shouldn't have said that." 

Hermione made no movement to suggest she had heard her friend, though she looked up and watched the giant squid throw rocks at people. She sighed loudly, and shook her head loosely. 

"I knew, Gin," she said after a long time. "About Fudge," she continued as she saw her friend's look of confusion. Ginny gaped and she looked away, not wanting to meet her friend's gaze. 

"How could you know Fudge was going to be killed?" Ginny asked softly. 

"Not entirely that, I knew the dark side was mad. He was improving," she said in a near whisper. 

Ginny's eyes widened in shock. "How did you-" she said, as if she already knew the answer but wasn't willing to believe it. 

"He told me," she whispered, eyes blurring. "I should have told Dumbledore, I know, I was stupid," she muttered. Ginny shook her head unexpectedly. 

"All you could have done would be to warn the ministry of the possibility that someone was upset with his recovery, which was already undoubtedly known. Not to mention you would have destroyed Malfoy's trust in you. And it seemed like Fudge had already been killed earlier this afternoon, whereas you only found out slightly before the prefect's meeting, so it may have already occured," Ginny spouted off, as Hermione stared at her in shock. She certainly had a lot of reasons to quell Hermione's guilt. 

Far from being reassured, Hermione was still lenient and angry. She stood up suddenly, a neutral expression on her face, though her eyes flashed momentarily. 

She walked purposefully towards the castle, as Ginny followed, unsure of what she was doing. Her friend eventually stopped in the middle of a corridor, and Ginny's eyes widened in apprehension. She grinned slightly as Hermione muttered something and the passageway into Hogsmeade revealed itself. 

Hermione strode purposefully down the streets of the empty town, straight past The Three Broomsticks without a glance. Ginny looked nervously behind her as she followed hesitantly. Her eyes widened involuntarily as her friend stopped, outside and beat up old shack-like building which she knew well enough to be the Hog's Head. 

"Hermione... what are you doing?" Ginny asked, a tone of pleading to her voice. 

"I remember Ron once said," the older girl replied, opening the door, and trying hard to ignore the pang in her chest at the thought of Ron, "that he figured he could get anything from this place," she finished with a bitter smile. "And if my best friends don't give a damn about me, why should I, right?" She added as an afterthought, although the grin had faded into a frown. 

Ginny sighed heavily and followed her in, hoping this state of mind would pass before Hermione could do anything too drastic in her unpredictable mind frame. 

Ginny watched miserably as several drunken men, teetering on their stools, all hurried to buy Hermione a drink. The latter sat down, neutral expression plastered firmly to her face, as she obliged. Where had things changed? When had she snapped? Ginny couldn't tell when this almost complete 180 degree change had occurred, as far as she knew, Hermione had always been the same. 

But as much as she tried to hide in her joyous oblivion, she knew her friend wasn't happy. She had started to see how Ron and Harry treated her. As little more than a way to get their homework done. There was a time, perhaps near the end of first year, or in the other earlier years, when the three had been inseparable. Ginny had enjoyed hearing about their relationship from Ron each summer. 

Somewhere around Ginny's third year, she noticed something. Hermione wasn't as open and welcome with the boys as much anymore. It seemed to start with the Krum episode; Harry and Ron didn't understand that she wanted to have something special about the time to herself; they thundered in, destroying her excitement. All through their fifth year, Harry was stressed about everything involving the Dark Lord, and now... 

Ginny sighed again. Hermione would be leaving this year; they would all be. Ginny wasn't too sure she would be coming back herself, after all she had heard of the war. Although she had complete faith in Hermione, Ginny had begun to wonder whether the intellect in her brain had seen the rising strength of the dark side. But the heart, which can stand in the way of the darkest magic, had spoken. 

Ginny knew that, however much she tried to protest that she felt nothing but malcontent and hatred at the mention of Slytherins, particularly one, Hermione felt something towards him. It crushed her to see, after all she had heard. The last thing Hermione needed this year was for her heart to be broken. Ginny suspected something else was hidden in Hermione's wandering mind, but she hadn't a clue what could be kept as such a breaking secret in her heart. 

A loud bang jolted Ginny from her thoughts, and she saw Hermione standing, wand pointed straight ahead, and one of the drunken men flat on the ground, under a full body bind curse. The rest of the men seemed to back off, and Hermione sat back down sullenly, continuing her drink. Ginny hurried over; she couldn't believe she had let her friend sit alone with those maniacal people. Angry and wasted. Watching their lives filter away through the bottle. 

"Hermione, I think we should go back to the school," she muttered quietly. Her friend turned hazed eyes on her, and gave a slight sneer. 

"Go ahead if you're scared of getting caught. It's hardly even late yet," Hermione replied loudly, taking another drink, as the men around laughed. Ginny gave a wry look at them, fingering her wand in her pocket. Some of them turned their gazes on her, eyes burning with lust. She shuddered, and backed away slightly. 

"Hermione, come _on_!" She said louder, reaching towards her friend. She shut her eyes as she ducked towards the bar, and opened them to find Hermione's wand pointed directly at her, her hand shaking slightly from the alcohol, eyes glaring. Ginny backed up, eyes focused on the wand in front of her. She couldn't have guessed at how much Hermione had had to drink, though she saw how eager the men were to force drinks on her. A surge of anger filled her at the men, staring at her friend as if she were a piece of meat. 

On a sudden impulse, Ginny pulled out her wand, and hit her friend with a freezing spell before she even saw the wand. Ginny saw Hermione's angry eyes staring at her, as she quickly levitated her out of the bar, with no other choice. Once outside, she lifted the spell, wand pointed firmly at her friend, who was in such a state of intoxication that her reflexes were barely working. 

She ripped the wand from Hermione hand, and forced her back to the school, ignoring the puzzled looks she was being sent. She saw the full effect of the wizard's liquor, which tended to be stronger than Muggle, hitting Hermione as she stumbled through the passageway into the school. After a narrow escape wherein they came closer to Snape than she had wished, Ginny knocked loudly on the portrait door to the Head's common room, hoping for the first time in her life that Malfoy would be there. 

She was about to turn away when the door opened slowly, and he stood there, an amused expression dancing in his eyes, his lips curled upwards in mirth. 

"What, may I ask, have you done?" He asked Ginny shortly, watching Hermione struggle for her wand. 

"I have done nothing, Malfoy, she did this to herself," she replied harshly, and the grin faded from his face. 

"Why?" he asked simply, as she noticed he was there, and watched him scrutinize her. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she most likely had more than just liquor, or else a large amount of it. 

Ginny sighed. Here she had to make her own house look cruel and evil, where he would most likely feel for Hermione, rather than Ron and Harry. "Harry said some inconsiderate things to her," she said openly. 

"Wow, you're such a help. Come on, bring her in," he said sarcastically, moving out of the doorway, and into the common room. Ginny followed, and Hermione obligingly trudged into the room, glaring at most anything. She looked over at Malfoy, who had his lips pursed slightly in thought. 

She was hit by an overwhelming wave of desire. She stared intently at his golden locks, falling casually in his eyes; his bright silver eyes that she wished to be directed into her own; his succulent pink lips. What was Ginny doing there, she thought irritably, as she tried to capture his attention. He shifted his gaze, catching onto her and he appeared shocked, at the excessively open passion she was displaying towards him. 

Her eyelids were heavy, as her eyes darkened with lust, and she stared right at him. He gaped openly, though Ginny couldn't see why. 

"What all did she have, do you know?" he asked Ginny, eyes narrowed slightly, still focused on Hermione. 

"I don't know," she admitted. "Some men were giving her drinks, I didn't see what they were," she said softly, watching Malfoy with intent. 

"Nothing else?" he asked. She saw... somewhere deep into the silver oceans that were his eyes... concern. A strong thought hit her intensely, that this wasn't just a facade. He cared about Hermione, more than anything right now, and she was ashamed to feel tears welling up in her eyes. She glanced away. 

"Not that I saw." He resumed looking closely at his roommate, who was breathing heavily, still staring at him, moving slightly closer... closer... He backed away; whatever was controlling her mind right now wasn't the sensible girl she normally was. 

"You never know with people in the Hog's Head," he snapped shortly. She moved her gaze, and he was very aware of her scanning his well toned frame; slightly visible through his black wife beater. Ginny frowned, and looked at the ground. Her friend seemed to have hit an abrupt change, and she was no longer stumbling and dizzy. It scared her; what if she had been given something else while Ginny wasn't looking? Those men weren't exactly friendly. 

"She's been given a lust potion," he said suddenly, jerking her from her thoughts. "And a poorly brewed one at that," he continued, staring at her. Ginny opened her mouth slightly to say something, but could think of nothing. 

"If it was well made, she would most likely be all over me right now," he said with an air of amusement, though still puzzlement. "It was good, she would have fallen very deeply into lust with the first male she saw... and I highly doubt she hasn't seen anyone before me." He looked over at Ginny, confirming this statement as she shook her head. "In which case, it leads me to believe that she has been lusting after everyone she's seen since the potion took full effect," he said matter-of-factly to Ginny. 

"How long will it last?" Ginny asked, not bothering to wonder how he knew so much about lust potions. 

"Normally, she would be back to normal within 24 hours. Now, I don't know," he said simply. "She might go looking for anyone she's seen, although if I'm the only one she's seen in the school, she wouldn't go much further," he said, shrugging. Somehow Ginny got the impression that he wouldn't take advantage of the situation. 

"But she would go after someone else in Hogwarts?" Ginny asked, a sudden though occurring to her. He nodded and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Hermione. In his time of talking to Ginny, she had apparently felt ignored. And she chose to let him know she was still there, by pressing her lips hard to his. Ginny's eyes widened, and Draco fought hard to ignore the irresistible heat spreading through him at her touch. 

He pushed her away, grabbing her wrists in one hand, and she sent him a seductive grin, obviously unaware of the fact that he wasn't reciprocating her actions. 

"She didn't see anyone else, did she?" He asked, struggling to hold her away from him. She suddenly ceased, eyes glazing over, and she ran out of the portrait, a look of determination painted on her features. 

"She saw Snape," Ginny whispered, as they turned to watch her go. 

"Shit."


	8. Regrettable

Wow guys, I realize it's been a while... But with one thing and another, meaning being away for a week, and then getting back to find out my computer infested itself with viruses and having to completely reinstall windows and norton, and then having ff.net on a read only basis, I haven't been able to post this. But please review, I hope you enjoy! =)

* * *

They walked silently along the wall, watching Hermione walk purposefully down the middle of the hallway, panting slightly with the effort of running clear to the dungeons. 

Draco made a small hissing noise as Ginny stepped down hard on his foot by mistake, and Hermione jerked her head around. She didn't need people bothering her in her search for Snape. She was sure he had been around here somewhere when she last saw... She continued along when a flash of blond hair caught her eyes, and she looked around. 

Her breathing became hitched as it caught in her throat. What was she doing looking for Snape? This blond sex God was clearly looking for her... she wanted nothing more than to shove him up against the wall... to attack him with everything she had... 

She heard footsteps. Her gaze shifted away, as the desire seeped out of her. He was an irritant; distracting her from her mission. The one she really wanted was around the corner, she knew it. She picked up her pace, and almost ran down the corridor. A hint of raven coloured locks called out to her seductively, she moved forward. She reached a hand out to grasp that silky hair... 

She blinked. It wasn't Snape. So whose hair did she have tightly within her fingers? She gazed into his bright blue eyes, filled with shock and confusion. Whoever it was, she didn't care; this one who was putting up such a fight to get away from her, she was never more sure of what she wanted. There was an open doorway just slightly past, they could go in there... 

A hand reached out towards her arm, pulling it away. She moved to recoil; whoever had interfered surely needed to be punished. But the hand on her had seared; it was burning her arm, she went to move away. To glare at whoever this was for getting in her way. She couldn't, silver eyes sunk deep into her own, she felt her knees going weak. 

She looked back, and something ticked. Blaise. Zabini, she thought. He looked shocked and amused; she wanted to wipe it off his face... to make him understand what she felt. But she couldn't move. The one holding onto her mumbled something, and the dark haired man hurried off. 

She held tightly to the arm of the one leading her, into a different hallway and she saw Ginny. What was she still doing there? Did she have nothing better to do than get in the way of their plans? And she had many plans... The redhead appeared relieved, and started walking off. Good, she thought spitefully. 

She wrapped her hand into Draco's, soon they would be back where no one could be a bother. Alone. He looked down at her, a wry smile on his features, his eyes glowing into her. He sighed; at least there had been no too-close encounters with Snape. Zabini was one thing, though he had to wonder what he was doing out this late. It was a peaceful walk. Too peaceful he decided. As if something was going to happen very soon. 

They started to ascend the stairway out of the dungeons, where Hermione had felt to search for Snape. Passing by the Great Hall, Draco jerked his head up, eyes wide, dreading the worst. Only one person he knew walked so slow and deliberate. Right on cue. 

Hermione looked over, curious to see what had caused him to loosen his grasp, and nearly let out a cheer of happiness. She quickly let go and hurried in the direction of the impending footsteps. His jaw dropped, momentarily too stunned to go after her. 

She walked along the hallway, hardly able to contain herself, and he quickly went after her. He grabbed onto her arm, but she shrugged him off, not bothering to look back. A surge of indignation ran through him, against his better will. No woman, once he'd had his intent set upon her, had turned away from him. He wasn't about to experience a first, as he snaked an arm around her waist, spinning her around to see him. 

He searched in her eyes for a moment, seeing them glazed over with longing and intoxication. He moved her out of the main hallway, so she wouldn't be seen by Snape unless she came out. She started to struggle as Snape came closer, and Draco sighed. He pulled her into him, and kissed her full on the lips, mentally berating himself. She instantly relaxed, and tried to force her way into his mouth as he pulled away, keeping a firm grasp of her hand behind his back. 

"What are you doing out here, Mr. Malfoy?" Came the cold sneering voice of Severus Snape. Hermione shifted slightly to see him, and nearly ran out, until the grip on her hand increased in pressure. She gasped in pain, trying to get away from him. He took a slow step backwards however, keeping her in the corner. 

"Just watching for students out past curfew, _sir_," he replied coldly, though Snape didn't notice the sarcasm in his words. The potions master gave him a suspicious glance, and left with a curt nod. Draco breathed a sigh of relief, and turned back to Hermione. She was giving him the harshest glare she could muster, it seemed, though it lifted as he stared at her. 

He supposed this could be considered rather humourous, and had it been any other year, he would have certainly enjoyed watching the head girl jump the potions master. For some reason he felt bound to help her. He sneered at the thought. But why? It wasn't that outrageous, a small voice far back in his mind said. After ensuring that Hermione wouldn't run after the other man, he started back to the common room, leaving her to trail slightly behind. Really, she was just enjoying the view.

* * *

He sighed in frustration as the door opened again. Honestly, couldn't a man get some sleep? She had been coming into his room every ten minutes, and each time he would send her back to her room. And then he would put a different type of locking spell on the door. And each time she would find the way past it. Damn her intelligence, even when she was drunk, and under the influence of a lust potion. If anything, it seemed to be getting stronger. He practically had to pry her off of him each time she got in. 

He got up and walked over to her, holding her wrists both in one hand, as he walked her back to the door. He gently pushed her through it, and closed it, just as it opened again. He bit his tongue to stop from saying something highly insulting to her; after all she wasn't doing this of her own accord. 

She leered at him from under heavy eyelids, and he looked away, frantically for anything that might possibly help him in this situation. After failing in his quest, he cursed himself for keeping nothing of use in his room. 

"What do you want?" He finally asked in desperation, although he figured he knew the answer to that very well. She blinked at him, eyes still glazed over to the core. She stepped forward, moving a hand up to become entangled in his hair. 

"I think you know," she whispered, and pressed herself up close to him. He knew that in her state of mind, nothing would stop her from completely ravishing him except, well, him. He had never been one to give up without a fight. Of course, that was something that ran through his blood. He had always been stubborn. Childhood memories of floating water toys and anniversary balloons passed through his head. Of course, leave it to Lucius to puncture absolutely everything. He scoffed, then realized Hermione was still clinging to him. 

He pulled away from her, ignoring her slight whimper at the loss of contact. He was about to try once again with a combination of several locks, moving her towards the door again. 

"Draco..." she said softly, looking up at him sadly and he froze. She had never said that before; he tried to erase the word from his memory, in her soft, light tone. Why had she called him Draco? "Can't I stay?" She asked softly. He stared at her for a long while, until finally he sighed. 

"You can stay, as long as you keep your hands to yourself," her eyebrows knitted together. "If you do anything to provoke me, I will not hesitate in making you spend the entire night alone, alright?" He asked. At least if she would stay away from him, it would be easier than putting her back out like a lost puppy every few minutes. 

She seemed to figure any closeness to him was better than none, so she grinned. She jumped into his bed, finding herself tightly woven in the covers quickly, as if in fear he would change his mind. He got into the bed several minutes after, being sure to distance himself from her adequately, and pretending to ignore the fact that she seemed to have moved over six inches at least towards him.

* * *

_She was floating, above the clouds. Wait, she_ was _a cloud. She looked down, watching the trees play table tennis. Silently she cheered them on, until Harry entered with an axe. She had to stop him; what could she do? Ginny walked into the clearing, followed shortly by Seamus, Professor Flitwick and Bill Weasley. _

_Hermione's cloud floated down, randomly bumping into another cloud with the likeness of Draco. The Draco cloud asked her if she had heard whether the Wizard Stock Market, or the WSM, had dropped at all recently. She replied with a sober "no," and continued on her way, handing him an umbrella. "It could rain," she informed him. _

_Ginny had proposed to Professor Flitwick, who had turned into Hagrid and thrown random wild creatures. Harry turned his axe upon Shamus, and Draco's cloud had followed her in her descent towards everyone else. Bill declared his love for Bette Midler, and ran off in a flapper dress, as an acromantula flew past. _

_Each of the people, clouds and trees began throwing things at her cloud, it hurt incessantly. They continued, throwing harder things. The trees threw branches covered in muggle telephones. The Draco cloud dumped water on her head, using the umbrella to protect itself. Harry and Ginny danced away to sell pottery, and Flitwick Hagrid pulled out a trumpet, blaring it loudly. Shamus walked around with a frying pan full of chicken, offering it to the others. Her head throbbed, she wished it would all stop. She didn't want to be a cloud, she wanted them all to go away. The throbbing increased. She started to cry, tears falling on the trees, as they grew higher, banging on her... The pain... She felt as if she would fall from the sky... _

A low moan escaped her throat, and her eyes shot open. Immediately her head burst open; was she supposed to feel like this? She couldn't remember anything at all... Harry and Ron somewhere. Her eyes came into focus, she saw, far too close, the sleeping face of Draco Malfoy. What was he doing in her bed? Why was she clinging to him as if her life depended on it? 

She withdrew her hands as if she'd been burnt, he stirred, and his eyes opened, staring at her, emotionless mask firmly in place. He saw her puzzled expression and let out a slight laugh. Why did people laugh, she wondered. It was a horrible screeching sound... 

"A slight hangover, maybe?" He asked mockingly, as her mind took in what he said. What exactly had she done last night... He got up, and she was almost horrified to see his bare torso; he wasn't naked, was he? She breathed again as she noticed that he was indeed wearing boxers. A slight amount of comfort, but comfort all the same. At least she hadn't slept with the man. 

"Drink this," he said, conjuring something in a tall glass. "Trust me, it works," he said, handing it to her. Anxious to lessen the dull throbbing still insistently banging on her brain, she drank it all, trying hard to ignore the horrible taste. "Don't bother asking, you'd rather not know what's in it," he informed her, reading her mind. 

Almost at once her vision cleared, and the pain minimized, but she felt her stomach clench, and she ran from the room, intent on the washroom as her destination. He let her go, wondering how exactly he could tell her how much of an fool she had made herself out to be. 

"Just tell me," her voice said as she appeared back in the doorway. "What's the damage?" 

An hour later, she sat with a horrified expression on her face. Eyes wide, and mouth slightly open, she continued to stare at him; pleading in her mind that it was some sort of a joke. 

"Wait a minute, you shoved me into a corner?" She asked in indignation. "Perhaps that's why my hand hurts something awful." 

"Why don't you look at it this way, Granger. Would you have preferred to jump out and shag Snape, while he thought you were doing it of your own free will?" He asked simply. Her highly visible shudder gave him the answer. 

"And Blaise thinks I want him?" She asked after a moment's hesitation. 

He shook his head, conjuring a tray of bagels, that nearly made Hermione's stomach roll. "I told him, he just thinks of you as a raging drunk instead," he said with a sardonic grin. She opened her mouth, and quickly shut it again, conjuring a glass of water and taking a long gulp of it. 

"Well, thanks for everything I guess," she said quietly. He brushed it off. 

"I would most likely be blamed for letting the Head Girl run wild through the castle as incredibly wasted as you were. I had no other choice," he said with a slight smirk and she laughed. 

There was a knock on the portrait, Draco moved to open it, and came back a minute later with Ginny in tow. She took a furtive glance around and grabbed a bagel, sitting on an armchair by the fire. 

"You're alright, then?" Ginny asked, breaking the silence a few moments later. Hermione nodded, feeling slightly ashamed of herself. She stretched out on the couch, not bothering to fight the irresistible tug at her eyelids as she drifted back off to sleep. 

"You know Malfoy," Ginny began as she saw that Hermione was indeed fast asleep. "You aren't nearly as bad as you make yourself out to be," she said conversationally. His dark eyes flashed. 

"You ever say that to anyone else, and I will most likely kill you with my bare hands," he said, with a hint of humour. 

"The same goes for you if you ever tell Harry I told you this," she said, grinning. "But honestly, I see why she defended you," she said genuinely, and Draco was shocked. 

"She did that? Why?" he raised an eyebrow in confusion and stared at the sleeping girl. 

"Harry and Ron accused her of getting a bit too... close with you, and she went against them, said there was nothing wrong with you. They're still angry at her this morning," she said sadly. "I wish those two were a bit more open minded." 

"I'm not much better," he said, shrugging, in contemplation as to why she would go against her friends of the last six years. Ginny gave him a blank look; she barely understood it herself. 

"I'm going to breakfast, you coming?" Ginny asked, as she stood up, realizing how hungry she still was, even after her bagel. He shook his head, with a preoccupied look, staring at Hermione. 

"I'll be down later," he said, eyes narrowed, not looking away.


	9. Misunderstood

I have to say I'm not very happy with the way this chapter turned out, and I'd like to continue it, but lately I've been hitting a writers block for right in the future, and I needed to get something up. I guess it's more like a filler chapter than anything, but hopefully you'll still read it. I feel like I'm losing the tune of the story, though hopefully I'll be able to get it back. I'm spending a week working with a real writer soon, so maybe that'll help =) As always, thanks for reading and reviewing, they keep me going. 

(BTW-- to sphinx, thanks tons! I can't believe I didn't remember... -feels inadequate- But I've changed that now :D)

* * *

After half an hour it seemed as if Hermione would not awaken, and had fallen back to a deep sleep. Draco however, felt compelled to discuss certain matters with her, so he pulled a potions essay out from his bag. He grumbled softly to himself as he began writing out the information he knew on the many uses of the tendrils off of a Repulsive Ear Clocker. 

Leave it to Snape to assign an essay to be due on Halloween. In between making a tasty snack when boiled for 37 minutes, and aiding in the healing of welts, he heard Hermione begin to stir behind him. He turned around to see her already leaned over the table, scrutinizing his half written assignment. 

"You forgot their excellent ability to serve as a strong coil of rope," she said with a grin. He added it to his list, but set down his quill, turning to Hermione. Her smile faded at the look on his face, and she sat down. 

"Granger, why the hell would you put me before your best friends," he asked coldly. He didn't know why he was angry with her, he just felt as if something wasn't right. He was supposed to be her enemy, and yet she pretended like there was no animosity between them. 

"I... I didn't _put_ you before them, I just felt that their argument was rather weak, and unfounded. They were accusing me as well, Malfoy," she replied harshly. 

"Granger, do you hate me?" He asked simply, and she looked shocked. 

"Of course not," she stated uncertainly. 

"Wrong answer," he cut in. "You were supposed to tell Potter and Weasley that they're ten thousand times better than I am. You have to agree with them, you're a Gryffindor." 

"And you're a Slytherin, it doesn't matter Malfoy, honestly, inter-house relationships are good," she replied back. 

"Merlin Granger, this isn't just about whose house hates each other more," he said coldly, eyes burning. "This is about your people killing my people, and mine killing yours. No one's going to care what house you were in when the war comes around," he said. 

"Maybe if you weren't so determined to be on the bad side, then we wouldn't be having this discussion," she said coldly, glaring at him now. 

"How do you know that you aren't on the bad side, Granger? Aside from your heritage, do you really think your aurors are saints? What are you willing to bet that they won't be just as ruthless or more?" He questioned her angrily. Her jaw fell open, though she had difficulty finding words. 

"At least the aurors don't kill mercilessly for no reason," she countered. 

"You really believe that? I can give you over two dozen names of Slytherins who have had their families torn apart or killed for just being in the least bit associated with our side. It's not all murders and scheming, Granger." 

She sat back down on the couch, unaware of standing at all. She stared determinedly into the pillow beside her, avoiding his intense gaze. 

"I don't see how any of this relates to what I told Harry and Ron," she muttered absent mindedly, not even sure if he was still there. A moment later a sigh from behind her confirmed that he was, and then she felt the couch dip down as if someone had sat on it. She risked a glance over and saw that he seemed considerably calmer, and relaxed slightly. 

"Granger, those two are some of the best friends you could get, I've seen how the three of you need each other," he said softly. "Compared to them, I'm pretty much the worst person you could know. I just don't want to see you throw that away in exchange for a fuck up like me," he stated calmly. 

"I don't think you are," she said quietly, and he gave her a grim smile. "If they're such good friends, why don't they even care enough to know anything about me," she asked, unsure whether to expect an answer or not. He shrugged slightly, and remained silent for a long time. When he spoke it wasn't how she expected. 

"What is it that you want them to know about?" He asked simply, staring into her eyes. He saw ill understanding. "Meaning to say, if they don't know anything about you, what should they know? Perhaps this has been bothering you for a while, and it's part of the reason you think you're falling out of touch." He spoke as one describing the weather, though she was astonished at his comprehension of what she had been feeling. 

"It was hypothetical, Malfoy," she said after a pause, and though he wasn't fooled in the least, he let the topic drop. 

"Yeah, sure... I've just ruined enough lives, I don't need to rip yours apart as well," he said genuinely, looking at her. For a moment she simply stared blankly at him, wondering whether he had actually mean what he just said. 

"You haven't," she said certainly. "Ron and Harry like to be stubborn in what they believe. I'll just give them a few days and they'll be back to normal again," she assured him. He raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. "Now, I'm hungry," she said later, breaking the uncomfortable silence, and walked out, leaving Draco to ponder what he had gotten himself into. 

It seemed, however, that Harry and Ron would not return to normal within the day, because they were ignoring her throughout, and hurriedly left the breakfast table as she approached. She sat down in a huff, and struck up a conversation with some fifth years. She didn't notice when Draco walked in and shot her a meaningful glance, and neither the frenzied conversation down the table from her. 

She sat listening to the anxious discussions about Halloween. Hermione had never been one to care a lot about the holiday. In her mind it was nothing more than an excuse for young children to parade around as various monsters and beg for free candy. At least she had thought when she was younger. 

As a child, Hermione enjoyed dressing as a witch or vampire, though once she got her letter everything had changed. No longer did she have meaningless daydreams about performing magic skills, with princes and dragons. She took a long look around the hall, taking in all of her peers and teachers who were still eating their breakfasts. 

She laughed aloud at the thought of what she might have said to the person who told her ten year old persona that she would be sitting in a school for magic in just seven years, preparing for graduation, and possibly war. The fifth years sent her a concerned glance, and continued with their conversation; she had tuned out politely. 

What she wouldn't have given to be back as a young child, imagining herself somewhere exotic with a simple thought. Though she had taken her apparition test the summer previous, she had used her new skills for no reason as such. A sigh escaped her lips, at her lost childhood; her lost innocence, so to speak. There had been more than one time that she wished this was all a game; that she could wake up and put it away as a happy but confusing dream. Perhaps to dwell on, though this was the present. 

Three summers ago, one of Hermione's young Muggle neighbours had asked Hermione if she wished to play a game involving dragons and witches with them. She had laughed at the irony of it, but declined the offer. She had no interest in seeing her old point of view reincarnated in someone else. If only they knew... 

She was jolted back to the present as she noticed Snape and Dumbledore in frantic conversation at the head table. She tilted her head to hear better, and found herself wishing she had some Extendable Ears with her. She looked around and saw she wasn't the only one with her attention focused entirely on the two. Dumbledore, usually quiet and reserved, was looking alarmed, and speaking at a higher volume than usual. Hermione strained to hear as McGonagall walked over to join in the conversation. 

"...not entirely proper..." 

"...possible meaning..." 

"...alert several of those..." 

Snape stopped talking immediately as he noticed the hall was nearly at a level of silence except for the three talking heatedly at the top. He sent a heavy glare across the room which would have been enough to send most of the people into shock and fright, scrambling away like mice. But Hermione, as well as most others, knew this was something of great importance. And what else was so important these days as news of war? 

They fell into silence at the sharp voice of McGonagall and the students hurriedly returned to their discussions. She saw several Slytherins smirking, and fell into a bout of rage, she wanted to smack each of them, who dared to consider this something good. The day Dumbledore fell was the day the light side would crumble. 

The old man glanced around the room, and upon spotting her, beckoned a single finger, and quickly put his hand back down, as she stared into his usually twinkling eyes, dulled with worry. He gave the slightest nod, and she stood. Under the pretense of leaving for her dorm, she walked towards the doors past the head table. Dumbledore quickly turned around and headed out into the entrance hall, and Hermione had to veer wildly to avoid hitting a group of Hufflepuff second years. 

Dumbledore walked purposefully towards his office, and Hermione saw McGonagall hurry towards him, and broke out into hushed conversation. She didn't bother trying to listen; she figured she would know enough soon. Probably more than she would have wanted to know under normal circumstances. 

Hermione slowly ascended the stairway as she entered the office, pondering why Dumbledore stepped out of his comfort zone, so to speak. He sighed heavily as he sat down in a chair, and peered at her over his glasses. 

"Ms. Granger, I cannot tell you why you are here," he began and she jumped to attention, focusing on what he was telling her. "But I can tell you that you, as well as many other students on our side in their top years will be going to Headquarters over Christmas break to begin your training for the war," he said with a sigh. 

She stared blankly; she had been sure that her training would begin soon, though she hadn't quite expected less than two months away. It made everything seem so hopeless. 

Numbly, she stalked out of the office minutes later, wondering what could have happened to make the Professors so anxious for them to begin training. 

Her thoughts turned to who among the sixth and seventh years would be adequate enough to visit the Order to receive information. Many of the Hufflepuffs, she was sure, as well as most of the Gryffindors, and some Ravenclaws. A pang hit her as her thoughts floated away to who wouldn't be there, and she had a sudden image of Draco Malfoy. How dare he pervade her mind like that, when she wasn't even meaning to think about him. 

With his hair falling in his eyes like that... she shook her head, noticing how strange it could seem to passers by. In all truth, she didn't want to oppose him. But seeing as there was no way he would join their side, and Hermione felt no inclination to betray her best friends and join his side, it didn't seem likely. 

Draco walked slowly down the hall, head held high, gaze full of malice. He had seen the incident at breakfast and Granger hauled away by the Headmaster. Though he was only remotely curious, he had never before seen Snape riled, and truly wished to know the reason. 

He was still slightly angry about Hermione, though he almost understood why she had done it. Not that it really concerned him, but those two could be royal bastards if they didn't even try. So if they tried... he could only imagine. What bothered him the most was getting too close to her, and then having to fight against her on the opposing side. He knew that neither of them would be able to show mercy, so it would be much easier. He was positive he wouldn't rase a wand to her, but all the same, anyone else could. 

He walked straight into someone, eyes filling with anger, as he continued on, not worried about who he had been on a collision course with. 

"What the hell, Malfoy?" The person said, and he turned around, sneer planted on his features, eyes burning with hatred. 

"Don't stand in my way, Potter. As much as it pains you to be lower than me, wiping your pathetic germs all over me won't help you," he muttered maliciously, as he continued to walk. 

"Stay away from Hermione," Harry said in a voice covering as calm, stopping him once again in his tracks. 

"Where the fuck do you find it in your own matters what I do or what I say to my roommate, Potter," he said in a deadly soft voice, causing Harry to shudder against his will. 

"If you hurt her..." Harry muttered angrily. 

"I think you've been doing enough of that for the both of us," Draco cut in, knocking him off guard as he looked at his enemy curiously. "Yes, I talk to her, thus she told me what you said, maybe think about being less of an ass to your supposed best friends. By the way, your girlfriend, told me what you said as well," he said in almost a whisper, before shooting Harry a look of pure loathing and stalking off. 

"Wait, Malfoy!" Harry shouted and jogged to catch up to him, before Draco spun around and glared at him tiredly, as if he was wasting his valuable time. "What did Ginny say?" Draco stared into his bright green eyes, laughing inwardly at his naivety and belief. In the moment when his worst enemy was begging him for information, he wasn't going to let it go too quickly. 

He let out a cold laugh, causing Harry to back away in apprehension. He pondered for a moment what he could use against him, silver eyes glowing with mirth. He shook his head slightly, trying to get Harry to become angry by wasting time; perhaps he'd even draw his wand. 

"I don't think you need to know information such as that Potter," he said with an evil grin, but continued before the other could utter a syllable. "However, I think maybe you should watch what sort of scathing remarks you might make to me, in case I could use a bit of information I know to my advantage." He muttered on as if having a rather pleasant floo conversation. 

"What information would that be, Malfoy?" Harry asked, voice raised slightly. 

"Control your anger, Potter," he scolded, thoroughly enjoying himself as the other boy grew angrier. "I'll ask you if a certain cold, desperate night with Cho Chang last year rings a bell? Perhaps, _after_ you'd already admitted your feelings for one Ginevra Weasley?" He said, smirking widely at Harry's discomfort and quickly rising blush. 

"How the hell do you know that," Harry muttered under his breath, unable to face Draco. 

"I'll just say that wasn't the only case of pre-NEWT nerves she had worked up that year, and you weren't her only... correspondent. Odd how she never went back to you, isn't it?" He asked darkly. Harry seemed speechless, as he opened his mouth several times and shut it again. 

"If you ever tell her, I won't hesitate..." he said after a while, before Draco dismissed him, shooting a glare at him. 

"You'll what, Potter? Avada me? You and I both know you don't have enough hatred in you to kill someone, especially someone who can _actually_ kill if provoked, so I think I'd stay clear if I were you. And now I've talked to you long enough to last a lifetimeof distaste, so get the fuck away from me," he said and strode off, leaving a very perplexed Harry in the corridor. 


	10. Abandon

On with chapter ten I suppose, though I must offer you an explanation. I have been incredibly busy due to many things: writers's camp, which was superb I must say, and it threw me off fanfiction for a while as I became more engaged in original writing, a foray into the world of poetry, job interviews, evaluations, and ehh parties. Not to mention I've been fighting against my depression as it's returned with a strong vengeance, and I haven't felt like writing. Also internet troubles, and of course fanfiction being on this read-only basis. I would put this up at the time I write it, but if I need to change something I would be unable to, for goes down tomorrow for two days in case you all haven't noticed. Which by the time you see this, will be gone already. I hope you forgive me, and review! 

And yeah, if you think I own this, I know some nice people all in white for ya ;) 

* * *

Along with an increase in workloads, November brought a great chill into the air, sneaking through open windows and invading the castle. Steadily the temperature dropped daily, giving the house elves quite the task of keeping the fires burning. Students could be seen hurrying through the grounds to classes, bundled in their warmest cloaks, coughing in the cold air. 

Hermione walked down the stairs late one night, shaking slightly. Making toward the couch, she stopped in her tracks as she saw him sitting there. He glanced at her through his peripheral vision, though his features betrayed no emotion. 

"What are you doing here," he said softly, looking back into the bright fire. She moved to sit on the other couch, as he gestured to the spot next to him, and she hesitantly took it. 

"I accidentally left my window open, the room's freezing," she admitted. A flicker of amusement passed his lips, but was gone before she could make anything of it. "What about you?" She asked. 

"Couldn't sleep," he shrugged. He was silent for a long while, so she made no attempt to strike up conversation. 

"I'm going to-" Hermione began, as he cut her off. She was about to say she was going back to her room to try to sleep, when he spoke. 

"I tried to talk to you," he said quietly, ignoring her past words. "After Snape went nuts," he explained. She looked away; she felt no inclination to discuss the happenings of her side with him. He laughed coldly. 

"Don't be dense, I don't need to know why. I know what he's up to... even if he can fool the rest of us. There's no way in hell he would give remedial potions lessons, especially to Potter," he said with a slight smile. Hermione fidgeted nervously under his intense stare. Of course that had been Harry back in fifth year when Dumbledore wanted him to learn Occlumency. 

"Why would you want to talk to me?" she asked, voice laced with minimal contempt. She had not quite gotten past his words of several days prior. 

"I overreacted," he said simply, with a sigh. "I was upset with myself but took it out on you," he looked away, and the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach loosened somewhat. 

"Why do you feel so strongly for the dark side if you won't even pledge yourself to Voldemort?" she asked, berating herself for sounding so accusatory. He paid it no heed however, but reverted to staring at her unblinkingly. After a time, she gave up hope of an answer, and shrugged it off. 

"That's a good question," he said later. "I suppose I may understand his practices and intentions, but it doesn't mean I want to give away my rights to think freely. It's a very twisted form of rebellion," he said with a glint in his eye. "Besides... I'm not exactly the type to follow anyone, especially one so hideous as that," he smirked and she couldn't help but laugh. 

The chill in her had subsided slightly, but she wasn't about to brave her icebox of a room again. Beside her Draco yawned and she looked at the clock; it was past 2 am. 

"You should probably get to sleep, we've got class," she muttered softly, looking at him. He was watching the fire again, and she could see flickers of orange reflected on his dark grey eyes. For a fleeting second she would have loved those burning eyes to be directed into her, to spill all that they held, and then it passed. 

"Doesn't matter, I'd rather stay here," he said, not shifting his gaze. She sighed, about to comment, when he jerked his eyes to her, and studied her still slightly shaking frame. He conjured her a glass of cocoa, and she sipped it obligingly. 

"So..." he began after a while. "What sort of things did you like as a child, other than reading," he said, a smile gracing his features. She glanced at him, glad but shocked for his opening of conversation. And nothing short of childhood memories, at that. 

"Well, I loved doing anything with my parents and my brother," she said, smiling at the thought. "Me and my brother used to play sports in the field behind our house, if you can believe it," he laughed softly. "And we used to go places throughout Europe every summer, until recently," she said, smile fading. He caught on to her lack of enthusiasm, and looked away. 

"What about you, how was your childhood?" She regretted the words almost as soon as they escaped her lips, though he smiled. 

"Rather shitty, until I came here. Then it kinda went downhill," he said, smile still fixed curiously on his face. It confused her, almost scared her, why he could be so happy about something like this, but not for a more cheerful reason. 

"Nothing was good about it?" She asked sadly. "When did you enjoy childhood?" 

"I didn't, really, I guess," he said shrugging. "I enjoy certain things here though," his eyes lit up. She grinned, somehow feeling excited in his euphoria. 

"Like what?" He pondered for a moment. 

"I certainly enjoy flying, playing quidditch, talking with you. I'm having fun right now," he grinned. 

She smiled back, unwillingly feeling a tear slip out of the corner of her eye, hoping it had gone unnoticed. Unfortunately, he turned worried as he looked at her, frowning. 

"What's the matter," he asked softly, wiping away the tear before it could reach its downward destination. 

"I don't know, it just doesn't make sense. Didn't you care about your family?" She asked in desperation. He stared blankly, but made no indication that he understood her words. 

"I guess I did, I didn't think about it much. All I did with them was have dinner when guests were over," he said simply. She sighed, hardly reassured. "If it means anything, I had good times with my neighbours. There was a lake just past the manor, we would go there nearly every day," he said, eyes displaying nothing negative. She grinned; it was hard to imagine Draco spending time on the shores of a lake every day. 

Noticing that Hermione hadn't warmed up adequately, he feigned stretching as he slipped an arm around behind her back, eyes glinting with mischief. She gave him a suspicious grin, but settled comfortably into his warmth. 

"So, what does the brilliant Hermione Granger have in mind after graduation?" He asked mockingly, looking down at her with a smirk upon his lips. It faded as her eyes darkened, and he stared at her confused expression. "You alright?" he asked with genuine concern and her eyes began to water. 

"I don't have any plans," she said quietly, looking away so he couldn't see the tears gathering in her eyes, waiting to spill free. "My parents don't want me to stay in this world after I graduate," she said no louder than a whisper, and Draco was forced to strain to hear. 

"They can't do that," he said shortly. "When did they tell you?" 

"They didn't really, I overheard one night," she said, blushing. She proceeded to tell him what she had heard, and by the end his ordinarily blank grey eyes seemed to be glowing with anger. 

"Merlin..." he said, running a hand through his platinum hair as it fell in his line of sight. "If I were you I'd... well that isn't going to make you feel much better," he muttered. Despite herself she laughed softly. "I'm sure if you talked to them, they might understand," he reassured her, though she was still upset. "What did Potter and Weasley say?" he asked grimly. 

"They don't know," she murmured, glancing down at the clock on the table. He made no type of snide remark. "They wouldn't care either," she said spitefully. He appeared mildly shocked but she didn't continue. 

He watched as she sat deep in thought for a moment, her eyes blurring with tears. He realized he admired her openness; he wondered if he'd ever be able to even think of showing as much emotion as she did. He stared curiously as she looked at him, he connected with her eyes and was shocked at the pain within them. He would never know how she was feeling, as he would undoubtedly be spending his whole life; albeit perhaps not lasting much longer than the war, in this world. 

"I get the feeling they don't know you very well," he said thoughtfully and she shook her head in agreement. 

"Not really, you're right," she said, resting her head on his chest, creating an unexpected heat. "I'd just hate to be torn away from all that I've spent the last 6 years learning about," she said in desperation. "I would rather never have come at all than to have to become Muggle again," she said softly. 

"No you don't, then you never would have met me," he said wisely. 

"Very full of yourself, aren't you?" She asked, smiling slightly. He shrugged nonchalantly, pouting slightly. She was overcome with a desire to taste those soft lips, but shook it off; it would not be appropriate if she were to do something like that. "Why does there have to be a war?" She sighed, and he frowned. 

"I don't know," he said, upset with himself that it was all the explanation he could provide. "It's stupid and pointless, but apparently it's going to happen." She yawned widely, glancing at the clock. Her eyes widened slightly as she saw the time. 

"It's late, I guess I'll try to get some sleep," she muttered, getting up and immediately feeling the chill of the air. He stayed sitting for a moment, staring pensively into the ground, before he stood and walked towards the stairs as well. 

Hermione felt her eyes falling shut, as she felt a hand on her wrist and she spun around, connecting her own with his eyes. She felt herself falling into those silvery depths right as he looked away, glancing at the floor. 

"Thanks," he muttered awkwardly. She was unsure what he was thanking her for, but she nodded lightly, smiling at him. He looked into her eyes again and she was shocked at the sadness she saw, compared to how happy he had been only minutes before. 

"I'll see you-" she began before she was cut off. It took her hardly a moment to throw aside her caution and respond to his lips on hers. He deepened the kiss, pulling her closer towards him, as she wrapped her arms around his neck, entwining one in his blond locks. Hermione was pulled under by the heat encompassing her, as she fought back with everything she had. 

After all too short a time for Hermione, he jerked away, breathing harshly. He looked at her as his eyes widened, looking stricken. His bright orbs penetrated into her soul, and she unconsciously shivered. It was almost like he seemed angry at her. 

"What is it?" she asked, concerned that something might be wrong. He gave a faint smirk, moving away from her slightly. 

"This, whatever this is, it's gotta fucking stop alright?" he muttered, and she raised an eyebrow, looking at him questioningly. He sighed heavily, looking past her. "I honestly don't know what you're doing to me, but it's over." She looked at him suspiciously, trying to ignore the throbbing need to feel him against her once more. 

"What are you talking about Malfoy?" she hissed, feeling anger along with her fatigue. 

"I don't think you understand this whole _death_ thing, Granger. I'm not going to do this, it'll never work. You might as well get over it," he said quietly, smirking at her. 

"I don't get what any of this has to do with anything," she said absent mindedly, fingering a piece of his hair. He moved his head out of her reach, doing his best to shoot her a glare. 

"Let me explain this to you, Granger," he said sarcastically, and she was taken aback at his bluntness. "_I_ am loyal to the dark lord, _you_ on the other hand, are on the side of Dumbledore. Whatever you want to call _this_," he said, gesturing frantically between them, "will never work. It will lead to nothing but pain and injury. You belong with a Gryffindor, someone who can understand you for who you are." He saw her hurt expression and softened somewhat. 

"You're a great, strong person, no one can take that away from you, Granger. I know I don't deserve that, you don't need to get involved with the wrong people. Especially now," he said earnestly, looking into her eyes. He opened his mouth once more to say something, but shut it quickly and turned away up the staircase. 

Hermione stood gaping at the empty space where he had been just a moment ago, utterly shocked beyond belief. Where had this extremely abrupt change come from? And more confusing still, why did she feel like she was being ripped apart from within?

* * *

Draco woke the next morning, wondering why he felt like, to put it nicely, absolute shit. He groaned, burying his head in his pillow as he remembered what had happened. Not to mention the fact that he probably hadn't got no more than three hours of sleep. He dragged himself to the washroom for a shower, trying his hardest to rid his mind of a certain Gryffindor. 

He had no idea what made him do what he had, in ending whatever type of relationship they had the night before. He thought it had something to do with his own cowardice, as displeasing as it was for him to think. He hadn't meant to be harsh with her, but perhaps it was just his exhaustion. 

It wasn't as if it were even her fault, he thought bitterly, as he had been the one to initiate the kiss just prior. 

He ate breakfast silently, thinking to himself, watching his schoolmates intently. Through potions he sat with Blaise, trying his hardest to ignore Hermione on the opposite side of the dungeon. He caught site of her once while getting his ingredients, but she seemed not to notice him. 

He sighed and continued back to his table, determined to get his thoughts away from her. He had been the one who had forced this estrangement; she was only doing as he said. 

All around his day had been admittedly miserable, between guilt and yet another heavy round of work; he was glad when classes were finally over. He grumbled indiscernibly to himself as he walked to dinner. He was stressed; and he knew that no matter what it would do to his current mood, there was always one surefire mode to de-stress.

* * *

Hermione ate her dinner in a depressed silence, ignoring- and in general ignored by- those around her. She didn't dare look over at the Slytherin table, after what Malfoy had said. She couldn't figure out why she felt so poorly about it; sure they had been getting to know each other better lately, but she wouldn't expect to care _quite_ that much. 

"Are you alright Hermione?" she heard someone ask near the end of the meal, and she looked over to see Ginny watching her curiously. She nodded enthusiastically, forcing a smile. 

"Of course, I'm just trying to remember which classes I have homework in," she lied easily, and Ginny looked away. She hurriedly finished and went to the library, not exactly wanting to be in the common room if he were to be there, so soon after. She stayed working on her homework until she was forced to retire to sleep, after the very few hours she had slept through the previous night.

* * *

Dozens of heads looked up quickly as he walked into the Slytherin common room that evening. He ignored them efficiently, searching for the one person he was looking for. His conscience was already beating him up, but he was exhausted, and found no reason to feel guilty. It wasn't as if he was involved with Granger or anything. 

"Hey Sal," he muttered, setting his hands upon the hips of one Sally-Anne Perks. He figured if there was one girl in Slytherin he could have had the best future with, it would be her. She was much smarter than many girls in their year, and quite pretty as well. She had a type of classical beauty with long golden-brown hair and blue eyes. 

"Hey, it feels like it's been ages," she replied, smiling up at him. 

"Yeah," he said, smirking. "So... you busy?" he asked, pulling her closer into him. Her eyes glinted as she realized what he meant, and she sent him his own smirk. He raised an eyebrow at her and she laughed softly. 

"Never too busy for you, Draco," she said and he grinned wickedly, pulling her along in the direction of the dorms.


	11. Reality

I'm not even gonna try to apoligize, because I know it would take too long, but with work, homework, work ed, basketball, and, school, and without the urge for fanfiction in it all, I haven't been writing this stuff. So if anyone out there is still waiting for an update, here it is. I hope to get back into this, because I've come up with some new ideas for the story. Please review if you want :)

* * *

Without much regard for the cruel attitude and dark reputation of Draco Malfoy, rumours of him were soon spreading throughout the castle like wildfire. Never before had the occupants of Hogwarts seen him become so attached to one girl; he hardly even walked around with girls more often than not. But the situation had become far out of the ordinary, as he seemed to be spending an insubordinate amount of time with his new more-than-friendly acquaintance, Sally-Anne Perks. 

It first they had merely thought it was some trick of his, some confusing new scheme he had hatched up, but without purpose or means. Others of course just felt that they were in it together. But to those who didn't know his unloving nature, they might have thought there was true emotion growing between the pair. Blaise Zabini was quick to set out the idea that perhaps Draco had retired from his old ways of simple one-night stands, but those who caught the death glares sent his way by the blond, realized it wasn't true. 

Of course, Draco would never be quite that quick to relinquish his old ways. He wasn't entirely sure what he felt for the other half of the school's greatest social fest, but he knew it wasn't hatred. Pansy had been quick to throw herself out, in the case that Draco was just looking for sex, though he sneered at her and muttered something to turn her the shade of a pomegranate. She wasn't seen around him for quite some time. 

This new lighter bit of gossip was enough to sufficiently quell the panic brought through the castle as news that there was still not a new Minister for Magic hit the front page. Many, like Harry, tried to avoid the rumours about his enemy as much as possible. And many also, like Harry, failed at their attempts and ended up fabricating their own beliefs of why Malfoy would be so devoting to only one girl. 

"Most likely he's just found a good shag he doesn't want to lose right away," he had said bitterly at the breakfast table one morning. Seamus had snorted into his cereal at this proposition and Ginny scowled impatiently. 

"If that was the case, why would she be draped over him constantly? Malfoy isn't the type to avoid honesty. If he was just using her for a shag, he wouldn't take her everywhere with him," she reasoned. Ron turned red at his younger sister's suggestion, who in turned slapped his arm, advising him to "grow up." 

Hermione Granger was avoiding every bit of information about Malfoy she possibly could. Most people knew at least enough to know that he had searched her out several weeks ago, and they had been, for lack of a better word, together since. And Hermione couldn't help but feel a slight pang of indignance that this had begun so soon after he had admitted to enjoying spending time with her. And hadn't he kissed her as well? 

There was something hidden behind the anger as well, something akin to sadness. But of course, he was Malfoy, and she was Granger. Her sensible side reasoned with her irrational side, as it screamed more than slightly louder than she had begun to care deeply for him. 

Ginny gave her sidelong glances most every time the topic of Malfoy would come up. But as Hermione had not so politely declined sharing any information with her at the start of this whole episode, Ginny knew better than to question her further. Hermione was determined to forget about whatever they had shared. It wasn't even a relationship. 

In Hermione's mind, a true relationship was one that was adored by all, where people would compliment on the way the pair fit together. One where they were open to the public, with a true boyfriend, girlfriend status. One that consisted mainly of more than a few stolen and confusing kisses. One that she definitely had not had with Draco Malfoy. 

Of course, if there was one thing this had achieved, it was that Harry and Ron were no longer fuming directly at her. She had taken to spending much more time in the Gryffindor common room in avoidance of both loneliness and Malfoy. After time it seemed the two boys had completely forgotten their anger, and she had been re-welcomed into the pack. 

She couldn't help but think that she was in a much better place alongside Gryffindors. After all, she had obviously shown their qualities when she was chosen to be a lion seven years ago. It wasn't quite as questionable as when she was with a cold-blooded Slytherin. 

But still, something was missing from her life, and she was positive she knew what it was. The streak of rebellion she had often felt when in his presence, had all but disappeared. No longer was she able to grin at one of the malicious smirks, or laugh alongside one of his snide remarks. Of course, it would do her no good to dwell on history. Though as much as she tried to assure herself it was for the best, she was scared that a part of her was gone forever. At least, so she thought to herself. 

She had never told Harry or Ron, or most of the Gryffindors in fact, about anything ever existing between her and Malfoy. She didn't particularly fancy another row after they had returned to a slightly unstable friendship status. And with December swiftly arriving, she would not enjoy Christmas alone at Grimmauld place, or wherever they planned to train them, with naught but Crookshanks for company. 

Hermione felt quite conflicted. She had never felt anything against Sally-Anne, although she hadn't known anything about her either. She knew that she was rather smart, and that she had never been good friends with Parkinson, which was always a plus in a person. Recently, she had taken to smiling at Hermione in passing, through the halls, though Hermione had difficulty discerning anything malicious in her grins. It was almost as if she were actually trying to be nice. Hah, a Slytherin. 

Although her and Malfoy had gotten quite close; without any outside help, but they also did live together. Hermione had been wandering the halls in thought when the center of her imaginings suddenly walked right past. It seemed that Draco had told a particularly funny joke, for the girl latched onto his arm was laughing cheerfully, as the blond let his trademark smirk slip upon his lips. 

He noticed Hermione and she was greeted with an expression of indifference, perhaps only the slightest frown to show what he was feeling. Their gazes held for quite some time longer than was necessary, neither betraying emotion openly to the other. Hermione was the first to snap out of her trance, as she looked down at her watch under the pretense of being late for an all important meeting and hurried off, staring distractedly into the books in her arms. 

He watched long after she was gone, and shook it off; he could not think of her. He looked down at the girl beside him, conversing rapidly of some story or another. They seemed to hit it off, he figured. She was quite a better friend than he could have imagined her being. Of course, friends with benefits if that were the case. He smirked. Oh, the benefits.

* * *

Hermione sat in the common room one cold Sunday afternoon, feet tucked under her as she engaged herself in a book. She spent all of a meticulous five minutes wrapping herself in a warm red blanket, only to notice there was someone at the door. Grumbling to herself, she disentangled the blanket and stalked to the door, shivering slightly. 

As the door creaked open, Hermione blinked as she saw Sally-Anne smiling back at her. She glanced behind her, before turning back to the other girl. 

"I don't know where Malfoy is, sorry," she muttered, and moved to close the door. 

"Would you mind if I waited for him here? It's just I'm already this far and he should be here soon," she asked, and Hermione sighed to herself, before opening the door again for the other to enter, and sat back on the couch. 

To Hermione, the next five minutes were horribly stifling and awkward, as Sally-Anne glanced around the room, not speaking. Hermione set her book on her lap, but was unable to read any more. When she thought she would burst, the other girl spoke. 

"This is a very nice room," she said politely, and Hermione gave a small thanks, unsure why she was thanking her at all. 

"You know, I really admire you," Sally said, once more in an attempt at conversation. 

"Er... thanks," Hermione repeated, feeling very much like slapping herself. 

"I wanted to be a Gryffindor, when I came here. Or else a Ravenclaw. My entire family has been in Ravenclaw except my brother and myself," she said, and Hermione nodded along, because she felt it would be nicer than ignorance. "But, I guess the hat chose Slytherin." 

"I guess so," Hermione replied, unsure of the spite in her tone. Sally-Anne sat down on the couch closest to the fire, and Hermione tensed, as if an unknown border had been crossed. 

"Call me Sal," the blonde said, holding out her hand across the couches, and Hermione shook it tentatively. 

"Call me Hermione, I guess," she replied, still feeling terribly uncomfortable. Sal smiled, withdrawing her hand, as the stairs creaked and a third party entered the group. He glanced suspiciously between the two of them, and Hermione was hovering on the borderline of feeling horrified and relieved. 

"Hey, Draco," Sal said, grinning between him and Hermione, who glanced away. He muttered a quiet, "hey" before moving to sit on the couch with Sally, draping an arm around her. 

They resumed the awkward silence, now the three of them, until Hermione stood, walking toward the staircase. 

"Wait," she heard Draco mutter and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing him to leave her alone. "I need to talk to you for a second," he said softly, though she heard him across the room. 

She turned around, as he muttered something to Sal, and gave her a quick kiss. Hermione's stomach jolted, and she felt a sudden urge to cry, feeling very much like the red sock that managed to slip into the white wash, and take the blame for the ruin. 

He waited until she was out of the room before speaking, with only a simple "so," to prompt conversation. 

"So what, Malfoy? You want my opinion of your girlfriend?" she asked, harsher than she had intended. 

"She's not my girlfriend," he said, eyes flashing. Hermione shrugged, and looked away from him. "What were you talking about?" he asked, and Hermione would have thought she almost noticed a hint of insecurity. 

"I told her everything you ever told me, we're best friends now Malfoy," she stated seriously. 

"Hah, Granger," he muttered. 

"Honestly Malfoy, she's been here five minutes. All she did was talk about her family. And how very Un-slytherin like she thinks she is," she grinned against her will. "Isn't she a bit too Gryffindor for you?" 

"She's very Slytherin actually, she wanted to be in Slytherin when she got here," he said proudly. 

"She told me, Malfoy,"she said blandly. He was silent. 

"I don't think it's very good for you speaking at all," he said after a moment, glaring into the floor. 

Hermione stared at him. "Don't worry, I'm not going to steal her away," she said. "She's the one who decided to be friends in the first place, Malfoy, might want to consider a leash," she said with a trace of anger. 

"You know, you don't need to act so superior," he said angrily. "Not everyone can be as high and mighty as you are," he said softly, staring at her. 

"_I'm_ high and mighty, Malfoy? Take a look in the mirror later, and not just out of vanity for once," she muttered. 

He nodded slightly, expression set. "You know, this is a waste of time. I don't know what the fuck your problem is, but I don't think I want to be a part of it. I don't know why I figured I wanted to talk to you. I guess it was best that this ended anyway, I don't doubt it anymore," he muttered coldly, and left the room, leaving Hermione to replay what he had said.


	12. Escape

So... two entire reviews, thanks guys! Well, I wrote more anyway, because I was itching to write it. I hope some of you at least enjoy :P

* * *

"Mr Malfoy, can you tell why Mr. Potter did this spell incorrectly," McGonagall barked early one morning in transfiguration, jolting the blond out of his momentary lapse of the unconscious.

"Because he's a fucking dumbass maybe?" Draco replied lazily, staring at the professor without a trace of a smirk. Harry paled and glared at Draco, while McGonagall turned a bright shade of red.

"I will not tolerate such language, 30 points from Slytherin," she said angrily, though he was unphased.

"I don't see why you need to take your anger out on me just because you're a hard-ass bitch who hasn't been laid in about a century," he said simply, still not with any trace of amusement, though paying a lot of attention to his quill. A few Slytherins snickered but were silenced at the look on the teacher's face. It held the utmost of loathing directed at Draco, who didn't so much as flinch.

"100 points, Mr. Malfoy. And 2 weeks of detention," she said calmly, trying to compose herself and failing badly, sounding like a strangled child.

"Fuck that," he muttered and packed his books into his bag before leaving the classroom, still retaining his usual grace. The entire class watched him go, without so much as a word. Hermione looked behind herself and noticed Sally-Anne paying no attention whatsoever; she was merely scribbling on a piece of parchment.

McGonagall resumed the class, though she was now so angry that she gave up and let them out early. As Hermione was walking, Sally-Anne caught up with her in the hallway.

"Do you know what's been going on with Draco lately?" she asked Hermione quietly. Hermione shook her head.

"I have nothing to do with him anymore, I wouldn't have talked to him. Why, did something happen?" She asked, hardly allowing herself to be curious. "Other than what just happened in class," she added as an after thought.

The other girl shrugged. "He's just been ignoring me lately, and he won't tell me anything," she said, not seeming to care very badly. More as if he were a mere pastime that she had given up. "Do you... do you think maybe you could possibly talk to him, Hermione?" she asked timidly and Hermione stopped in her tracks.

"I'm sorry, I don't think that would be any good," she replied politely, implying that she wouldn't like to be questioned further on the topic.

"Please, I know he'll talk to you," she continued, still seeming to understand the truth to her words.

"What else do you know about the two of us, precisely?" Hermione asked slowly.

"I know you were good friends, I just want to know what's wrong," she said sadly, and Hermione sighed.

"Fine, I'll ask him for you, if I see him," she muttered, and the other girl grinned widely, thanking her.

Grumbling, Hermione continued on her way to the common room, hoping against all reason that he wouldn't be there. She really tried to tell herself that, at least.

As the portrait swung open and she saw his familiar blond head, she shut her eyes tightly, willing him to disappear.

She walked quickly to the fire and sat down in one of the armchairs, wondering how to begin the conversation when he spoke.

"Class isn't out yet," he noted quietly.

"She let us go early," Hermione replied, not wanting to go into detail.

"Fucking bitch had it coming to her, you know?" he said with a smirk, one she hadn't seen aimed at her for quite some time. Hermione didn't answer.

"What's going on with you? You're usually so calm," she said quickly, wanting to be over with this situation as fast as she could.

"That, Granger," he said, digging through his bag for a stack of parchment, "is none of your business," he said, though not as cold as she might have expected.

"Of course it isn't. It is, however, the business of Sally-Anne, who forced me into asking you," she said formally.

"It isn't her business either," he said coldly.

"She's just worried about you Malfoy, at least have some common courtesy," she muttered, and he locked eyes with her for the first time in what felt like ages. They flashed and she braced herself for his reply, looking away from him.

"You're right, Granger. I honestly don't give a damn about who knows anything anymore, tell the world if you please," he muttered sarcastically, frowning.

"Tell her it's my father, she'll understand," he said simply after a long while. Hermione nodded, not wanting to question him further about what was probably a tense subject already. "Actually," he said quickly, pulling his arithmancy text out of his bag as well, and sitting down near the fire with it, "don't tell her anything now. Tell her I'll talk to her, if you see her that is," he said clearly, looking at her as if she were a business acquaintance, not a very questionable peer.

He didn't speak another word, just took out a quill and ink and set to work on his math. Only after watching him struggle with a certain question did she say "seven" softly, and he gave a short nod of gratitude.

She watched the fire for a moment before she noticed him looking at her. He gave a quick half smile, fading almost instantly, as if to say, 'so; what next?'

Hermione was confused beyond belief and so she watched him, not speaking, deep in thought. She was sure he hated her, until only moments ago, when his glance had given her belief that something was still there. Hiding deep back between the barriers cleverly constructed around both of their clever minds.

After some time of silence he straightened, slamming his quill down, and stared around the room for a moment.

"I think I'm gonna get out of here," he told her, and she looked at him curiously.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, to get out of here. Away from Hogwarts, from the Death Eaters, from the war," he said calmly and her eyes widened.

"Why would you do that?" She asked incredulously.

He shrugged. "For a change I guess."

"Where would you go?" she asked, genuinely interested at his sudden decision.

"I guess I'd fly off the grounds then apparate somewhere. See, that's the power of magic," he muttered, grinning. "There's supposed to be several magical communities around America."

He stood, and Hermione jumped to her feet.

"What, now?" she asked.

"Why not now?"

"It's just so... sudden," she muttered, staring at him.

"Granger, that's the trouble with you. You expect everything to fall into place, without making any decisions. You said you wanted to loosen up, but you don't seem to be doing anything to help that," he said sadly, watching her. "If you take big risks someday they might just turn out to help you. And if you don't... well then you'll never know, right?"

She didn't know what to say, she just nodded mutely, staring into the floor.

"Granger, I'm not running away, you know? I'll come back some day," he said softly, still staring intently at her.

"Will you graduate?" she asked softly. He shrugged. He ran up the stairs, coming back a minute later with his broom and his wand, tucking his Gringotts key into the pocket of his jeans.

"So... you coming?" he asked, throwing Hermione off guard entirely. Not only the fact that he would _ask_ her, but that _he _would ask _her_.

"I can't leave, Malfoy," she said simply, staring at her.

"Sure you can, you've been waiting for something like this, I can tell," he grinned.

"Not something like this," she felt her eyes tearing up and directed her burning gaze into the soft carpet. He laughed softly to himself, looking out the window, into the freedom of the outdoors.

"It's going to be cold," he stated. "Granger, I know things haven't been great. But I'm glad to see you rebuilding your life, and it is better. You're back to your old self again. And you understand; I know you do," he spoke quietly, even though the room was large and they were far apart. "And if you change your mind," he grinned again. "I know you won't, but the school owls are quite accurate on the worst of days." She nodded quietly, letting a single tear run down her cheek, and it dropped off into the carpet.

"As crazy as it is, after everything, I'm gonna miss you," she said, choking back a tear and allowing herself to smile. He laughed, and tossing his broom onto the couch, wrapped his arms around her smaller frame. Forgetting everything he had said to her in the past months, she wrapped her own around him, and closed her eyes tightly.

"I'll miss you too. Your crazy fits and rabid homework scheduling, and all that," he said and she laughed.

"Give Sal my regards," he muttered and Hermione noticed her didn't seem to care all that much. She nodded, feeling colder than she had before after separating from him.

He walked over to the balcony with his broom in hand once more, and she followed; they stared into the darkness and the great space between the window and the ground. And the edge of the sun was visible at the horizon, quickly allowing the moon to take over the long winter nights.

"Not going to stay for dinner?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"I'll find something," he muttered, and she was tempted to laugh.

"See you, then," he told her, opening the door and a great gust of wind came through that made them both shiver. "Give immorality a chance for me, will you?" he grinned.

"As long as you owl me," she said, biting her lip to keep from crying. He nodded sincerely.

"You know, I've always wanted to try this," he said grinning, as he launched himself off the railing, broom still in his hand, and Hermione's eyes widened until she saw him swoop back up seconds later and give her a kind of salute, as he flew off.


	13. Repression

"So he just left?" Ginny asked incredulously the next evening at dinner, after the news had arisen that the Head Boy had gone missing, and hadn't been seen since the previous morning. Hermione had conveniently not bothered to mention anything.

"What kind of head boy just flies away from school?" Dean asked, and Ron snickered.

"A slytherin one, and a bloody coward," he muttered darkly, to the laughter of many at the table.

"I don't think he's being a coward," Ginny broke in softly, and Hermione almost thought she saw the slightest grin slip onto her features before it was gone again. "Ron, how often have you said you wanted to just leave this place? And you never have, so if you ask me, he was braver than you."

"Stay out of it, Ginny," Harry said quietly.

"I will talk if I want to," she retorted and Harry seemed to know better than to argue.

"Miss Granger, may I speak with you for a moment," Professor McGonagall was asking, so Hermione reluctantly stood up, following slowly. She wasn't prepared to be questioned on Malfoy's whereabouts, as she was sure this was about precisely that.

"Hermione, did you--?" Sally-Anne asked as she walked past, but stopped quickly as she noticed the transfiguration professor hovering over the other girl. "Oh, professor, I was just asking Hermione about our herbology assignment," she said, grinning lightly.

"Right, Sally-Anne, about that, I need to show you the plants later, if you'll meet me in the library and we can head out from there, in ten minutes," Hermione said politely, catching on, as Sal grinned and walked off. McGonagall quickly acted as if nothing had happened, and began walking briskly towards Dumbledore's office, Hermione trailing behind once more.

"I wasn't aware that Gryffindors and Slytherins took Newt Herbology together," McGonagall said conversationally, and Hermione winced.

"Well, it's more of a bonus kind of project, you know, like outside of class," she explained.

"Ah. Well, I'm sure that can wait, I'm sure you already know the purpose of this visit," she said quickly as she said the password to the Headmaster's office, and the two of them stepped inside.

Hermione's eyes widened as she noticed both Snape and Dumbledore already waiting in the office, and she muttered a small 'hello.'

"Take a seat, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, conjuring a chair for her, and she sat down on the edge of the seat.

"I assume you have no information about where Draco Malfoy might be?" McGonagall asked quickly, as if she had been waiting impatiently to ask all along.

"I saw him only briefly in the commons after lunch yesterday, but he said nothing about anything like this," she said formally, and Dumbledore sighed heavily.

"I told you it was a mistake to bestow this level of trust on someone like him, Dumbledore, he could be off preparing his side for war, for all we know," the professor said angrily, voice raising hysterically, though Snape was still curiously quiet.

"Professor, if I may, I don't think he seemed to be considering anything of that measure, I assume he was looking for more of an escape," Hermione broke in quietly.

"You can never tell how a mind like that controls itself," her teacher said condescendingly, though with a tone of pity.

"Minerva, if you are suggesting that the boy's nature may be to run and prepare for war, because of his house--" Snape spoke up for the first time.

"Not at all, Severus," she said, dismissing his thought.

"Minerva, is there a possibility that you may be overreacting? He is only 17, after all," Dumbledore said softly, eyes twinkling.

"Dumbledore, you remember his father at that age," she whispered harshly, as if afraid Hermione might hear.

"I do remember Lucius, and I will say that his son is immensely different in nature, and it would be cruel to compare him to his father."

"Bad blood all the same, Dumbledore, don't let yourself be blinded when you need to see what is happening right before you," she said angrily. Dumbledore opened the door of Fawkes' cage, and the brilliant bird flew out, resting on the edge of the desk.

"You may go, Miss Granger," he said gently, not looking directly at her. Hermione stood and exited quickly, walking towards the library.

"Did he tell you he was going to leave?" a voice suddenly asked in her ear, and she turned to see Sal waiting anxiously by the doors. Hermione sighed, beginning to walk away from the library, as it had been a mere cover-up.

"Yes, he told me," she replied, and was silent for a moment. "He said to give you his regards, and something about his father."

The other girl glared for a moment at nothing in particular, sighing. "That bitch," she muttered, and Hermione was thrown off.

"Who, sorry?" she asked politely, and the other girl gave her an obvious stare.

"Draco."

"Draco's a bitch?" Hermione asked genuinely confused.

"Yes, you don't think he's the least bit inconsiderate?" Sal replied. Hermione shrugged.

"I thought he just needed to get away for himself," she muttered. They both fell silent.

* * *

By the time Hermione had come to realize that she didn't particularly enjoy living alone in such a massive common room, the first owl had arrived. Hermione was almost shocked that it was indeed from her departed roommate, as she hadn't expected he would follow through with his promise and owl her.

The letter spoke of minuscule and unimportant details, but Hermione treasured it more than she would ever tell anyone, including the sender. With nothing but bad news surrounding them, the long letters with their tight black script had become something of a trend as they began to come weekly.

And every Tuesday morning Hermione had begun to wait impatiently over breakfast for the sign of Draco's black owl. He sent them on Tuesdays, because he knew she would need to be in a good mood for double potions that morning. She told Harry and Ron it was her subscription to a new magazine.

Hermione noticed the letters were always random, and became more in depth with each one sent. His words would jump around, often making little or no sense, as if he had too much on his chest that he had to get out in some way or another. And Hermione wrote back, telling of the news around the castle. She had little to say but he thanked her for the replies anyway.

He found it particularly amusing that Sal had called him a bitch. Though he spoke rarely of his past fling, Hermione had taken the hint that he wasn't keen on the subject. They didn't speak of Harry and Ron, of Dumbledore or Snape, but Hermione's life was revolving around those carefully written notes every week. Which was why it came as such a shock when the letter the week before Christmas never showed up.

And then Wednesday, there was no letter either. When Christmas vacation was nearly started, Hermione had nothing to occupy herself other than the horror struck news of attacks and near misses.

She would occasionally leaf through the stack of neatly pressed parchment, searching the letters for any reason for the missed owl. And in the meantime she read them over, until it was finally time to depart to Headquarters for Christmas time.

Hermione was worried that Draco would send her a letter, as all mail in and out was being closely monitored by Moody. If anyone were to see one, and then perhaps find the pile she kept hidden under a heavy book beneath her bed, she knew she could easily be considered a traitor by such a single-minded group.

* * *

Hermione wasn't enjoying the war training at all. In fact, if she were to be entirely truthful, she hated the sessions. Back in fourth and fifth year she had been keen on learning as many curses and hexes as she could, perhaps to show that she too was of worth. Or maybe it was only to show that she wasn't only brains.

But now she found herself dreading the activities that took up most of her Christmas holidays. Moody and the other aurors worked them relentlessly, not only with their wands, but physically as well, as they were usually tired, and no one was ever able to get a full night's worth of sleep. Hermione had noticed that Harry barely slept even when he had the chance, she once saw him sitting alone in the living room at 3 AM, staring into the floor.

She wished wholeheartedly that she could offer some words of encouragement to her best friend, but what was there to say that wouldn't end horribly awkward. Hermione Granger, who was usually skilled with language, had nothing to say. After all, what would she say? "You can kill him, Harry, just have faith." She knew the last thing anyone wanted to this about was the war that seemed to be trying to break into the house in its haste to make its way toward them.

Christmas was also a sober affair. There was little merry making, and presents were opened in a thoughtful, though uncomfortable silence. After lunch they were back to work, preparing their skills, as if that extra pushup could kill just one more death eater.

And that in itself was a whole different matter to Hermione. She was absolutely terrified of killing a human being, as if they were little more than a flea that a dog scratches off carelessly. She had read somewhere that certain psychological ailments can turn into physical problems, and wondered if she would be unable to fight at all.

And then 3 days before the return to school, Tonks knocked lightly on Hermione's door.

"Hermione, you've received mail. Mad-Eye was determined to open it but I said that was for you, and he finally caved. I think he may have read the letter though; he looked a bit suspicious," she muttered, handing Hermione a heavy package with a letter attached to it. Hermione grinned and thanked her, knowing full well that Tonks probably had to duel Moody in order to give the package to her unopened.

She set the box on her bed, turning to the parchment, stopping cold when she noticed her name scrawled in loopy but neat writing on the outside.

_Hermione, _

_I must apologize one thousand times for the recent lack of mail. If I had an adequate reason I would tell you, however I don't. I have been caught up in certain issues that require I lay low for a while, but now I'm somewhere where I can escape it all for a while. I am trying my best to throw caution into the writing of this letter, for I know it will most likely be under harsh scrutiny once you receive it. I hope your Christmas was enjoyable, mine was intensely boring, but at least I haven't been stuck in any one place. I can't say when I might see you again, only that I hope for it to be soon. I've done quite a bit of thinking while I've been gone, and though I realize my actions weren't very responsible, they have cleared out my head of a great number of uncertainties. And I realize that I am late, but I hope you enjoy your Christmas present. I picked it up from an antiques dealer in New York City, who assured me it was two hundred percent authentic. Have an excellent new year. _

_Sincerely,_

_You know._

Hermione set the letter aside, trying to control the euphoria that was growing within her. So he hadn't forgotten about her after all. She thought it was completely unjustified that he would buy her a gift, but it didn't stop her from being curious. She carefully removed the brown paper, folding it up before she looked at the parcel and paled drastically.

It was a thick tome, entitled _Hogwarts, a History: First Edition_ and she quickly flipped open the cover, a thick layer of dust emerging. The inside of the cover had another short note.

_Hermione, You will find that this book has been __penned by Godric Gryffindor himself, over __1000 years ago. I thought you might find __it slightly interesting._ _And if not, then you can spend the next ten years_ _trying to decipher his writing._

_With all the love and compassion that I possess,_

_Draco Malfoy. _

Hermione scanned the first few pages wide-eyed, noticing that it was indeed hand-written, with occasional notes from the other founders. She started reading until the writing became much too blurry, and she was forced to wipe her tearing eyes before the ink was smeared.

She shut the book, holding it for a moment, tears threatening to overflow her eyes at one thought.

Love and compassion.

He had said that. Or written it at least. Her mind tried to explain that it was a kind way of ending a message, though a small part of her, trapped deep inside, wanted to scream, 'love and compassion!' to anyone who would listen. She was just so confused.

There was a knock on the door, and Hermione quickly set the book and letter beneath her bed, just as the door opened. It was Harry and she smiled in greeting; he gave her a nervous smile in return.

"Hey Hermione," he said softly, moving to sit next to her on the bed. "You're crying, what is it?" he asked with genuine concern in his tone. It might have been that Hermione was already emotional, or that fact that Harry cared so much about her, but a new wave of tears came on.

"Oh, it's nothing Harry, I just had some excess emotions I needed to get rid of," she said with a smile. He laughed, nodding in understanding.

"It's been crazy, hasn't it?" he asked.

"I'd call that a supreme understatement, Harry," she replied. "How do you get through all of the training?"

"You promise not to tell?" he asked, lips twitching into a grin. She nodded, feeling like a young girl who was about to learn a huge secret. Which, in a way, she was. "Every time I get nervous or scared, I just think of my parents, because no matter what happens in this thing, they are up there watching out for me." Hermione gave him a sad smile. "And if that doesn't sound like a certain article, I don't know what does," he added, and they both laughed at the memory of that Rita Skeeter article back in their fourth year.

"Remember when that was such a big deal?" she asked ironically, and he nodded.

"Remember how it was life or death who we went to the Yule Ball with as well?" he said and they laughed once more.

"Things will be fine, Harry," she confided to him, though she wasn't at all positive. "I have confidence in this."

He said nothing, just sat quietly until there was a call for dinner, and they both walked downstairs in silence.


	14. Pressurized

I love all you reviewers with my life, I mean it. You guys inspire me. Tear. Anyway, this is actually out sooner than I had planned, but I'm not too sure if I like it.

ALright ReAd this dudes. I'm thinking I'm gonna bump up the rating possibly :S This isn't going to turn into a smut story or whatever, but I want to be safe, since Fanfiction has almost no leniency for inappropriately rated stories, and I know even the language in this is pushing it. And you know... just in case ;)

So don't be freaked out is all.

This note is getting a bit long for me, so I'll let you get to it. I own nothing, sadly, but the twisted thoughts in my own head. Reviewers rocks, I love you.

* * *

Draco Malfoy set the letter down, pressing his fingers to his temple, eyes shut slightly in frustration. He opened one eye, immaturely hoping that just maybe it may have vanished. He sighed as his wish failed to come true, gently massaging his head.

He pulled out a scrap of parchment and a quill, leaning back in his seat to plan out the letter.

_Dear Father_

_Fuck you. _

_Draco_

No, he figured that would be far too blunt. If only they hadn't gotten rid of the 'gesture by mail' system at the Hogsmeade post office. Unfortunately too many people were sending wandless curses. For he could think of the perfect gesture to send...

_Dear Father_

_You know I would rather burn in hell for eternity than get that bloody mark. If you insist that I get it, I am here waiting for your death curse as a simple alternative. Although, knowing you, you'd merely send someone to do it for you. Bad press and all. I hope the dark lord kills you soon. Nah, I don't. I hope he gets one of his lowly servants to do it for him. The two of you are more alike than I had even noticed. I hope you both meet the same fate._

_I expect you had a horrible Christmas. _

_Draco._

That seemed at least slightly more appropriate, so he called over his owl and sent it off. The bastard had better get what he deserved. His father had been pestering him to get the dark mark since Draco had left Hogwarts. Through mail of course; though Lucius was infuriated that his own son would be able to find such an obscure hiding spot. When really, he just didn't know where to look.

Blaise had searched Draco out the day after Christmas break began, debating a long-standing decision he was having great difficulty solving. Draco offered his advice and his friend left, considerably brighter than the blond had seen him in five years. The more he thought about, the more the idea appealed to him as well. Of course, he would never go through with it. He was too independent for such a switch.

When Draco had finally sat down to write to Granger again, he found that with every word he wrote, the more he wanted to spill his mind to her. But he didn't, out of fear of her reactions. He had left when they still had quite a tender relationship, and he didn't particularly want to make it much worse. If anything, he wanted to improve it drastically. He had realized he didn't care the slightest what happened, as long as he was able to talk to her. He argued with the voice that threatened to mention the 'L' word. Draco was positive it most certainly wasn't.

After all, what did that have to do with anything? He had already given up on the 'I don't like her' battle, but he complained that he probably only felt things for her for no reason. Maybe it was sexual deprivation. Or he missed the way she wrapped her arms around his neck when he kissed her, or the heat that filled him at her touch... or maybe it was the way she had a witty response to match every one of his, or how she was the only girl in school who could keep up with him in an academic duel. It definitely wasn't how he felt truly happy for the first time in his life whenever he talked with her, or how he sometimes thought of what the future would be like with a small, curved detail added in.

He doubted it was any of that. Though denial had never exactly been one of his strong suits, he was determined not to let this go so quickly. After all, the last time he tried denial he had ended up with another blonde Slytherin constantly at his side, and Hermione full of hatred at him.

He had decided he preferred brunettes anyway. And Sal's hair was far too straight for his liking, and her disinterest in books was rather a turnoff... oh damn it all. He knew he was failing immensely.

"Merlin, how do you do this to me," he muttered to himself, though he knew there was no way Hermione was even listening.

He had determined he was lonely. Incredibly. Spending such an amount of time alone in America with absolutely no companions at all had done quite a deal on his psyche. He didn't appreciate it.

"What the fuck am I doing here?" he questioned himself, receiving no answer. He started to laugh, quietly, building in volume until he cut himself off, figuring he sounded like a maniac. He quickly shrunk his items he had purchased, grabbed his broom and flew out the window. Destination: London.

* * *

"I swear, they're working us harder every day," Ron said the night before they were to return to Hogwarts. Harry nodded in exhausting, while Hermione just shook her head.

Moody had them all fly into Paris and back that day, and then still kept up with the intense pattern of practice the spells now, worry about the side effects later. The only people entirely keen on the program were Moody and Lupin for some odd reason. Hermione thought he was merely compelled by revenge for his two best friends.

And so the three ate a quiet dinner, collapsing with sleep almost instantly afterwards, until all too soon it was time to return to the school.

The next day on the train, Hermione was having difficulty concealing the fact that she was actually quite anxious to see if Draco would be returning to school after the break or not. There was a small part of her that said her curiosity was something much more, though she ignored it. And so she was brought about to patrolling the halls alone, keeping an open eye for mischevious students.

"Hey, Granger?" a voice asked somewhat quietly, and she spun around quickly, as her eyes fell upon Blaise Zabini.

"Oh hi, Zabini," she muttered, stunned.

"I- can I talk to you for a moment?" he asked, and Hermione nodded, as he pulled her into a vacant cabin. "I realize you're probably shocked as hell right now," he added with a grin. She gave a weak smile, trying to determine what kind of evil plot he could be trying to pull. She sat down across from him, waiting patiently for him to explain his actions.

Hermione tried desperately not to stare as she realized she had never quite taken a good look at the Slytherin before. He had dark hair, almost black that was spiked to perfection, and intensely brown eyes that accented his tanned skin. He had an incredibly chiseled jaw, and a quirky grin that Hermione recognized from the many male models in Lavender and Parvati's magazines.

He smirked as he noticed her staring, and an ironic voice told her she had a soft spot for Slytherins. But his smirk told her it was easy to understand how he was known as Draco Malfoy's best friend.

"Okay look Granger, there's no easy way to put this really, just don't freak out on me alright? I'm trusting you with this, and I don't want you to go nuts. But please believe me," he said quickly with a tone of pleading. She tried to determine anything false in his gaze but failed.

She nodded, raising one eyebrow. "What is it Zabini?" she asked, glancing at her watch. Who knew how many students could be breaking rules at this very moment.

"Granger, do you think I'm a death eater?" he asked simply and she was thrown off guard. She had expected his request to be something much less drastic, maybe to ask for transfiguration help or something.

"I guess I've never thought about it, I know Malfoy isn't, I don't know Zabini," she said truthfully.

He glanced to the floor nervously. "I talked to Alastor Moody a few nights ago," he said softly. "I wanted to tell him that I would like to switch to your side in this whole... war thing," he grinned. "But he didn't believe me. Told me to tell those "damned death eaters" not to try to trick them anymore."

Hermione was staring at him with her mouth slightly open, eyes unblinking.

"Hang on, you want to switch to our side, and Moody won't let you?" she asked. She thought they had been spending the whole break searching for new recruits, not scaring them off.

"Yes, because I'm a Slytherin. But you've gotta believe me Granger, I want this more than anything. Those fucking Death Eaters have ruined my life, even ask Malfoy. I know you keep in touch with him," he said with a sideways grin.

"I... I don't know, Zabini, this is all a bit much," she said awkwardly. He looked disappointed. "What exactly do you want me to do about it?"

"I want you to get to know me, and to convince Moody that I'm telling the truth," he said, looking straight into her eyes. Hermione shuddered, but didn't withdraw her gaze.

"Why me though? Why not Harry?" she asked in a last ditch effort at hoping to wake up. He laughed and she narrowed her eyes. It still sounded like a cold Slytherin laugh.

"Potter? Him and Weasley wouldn't give me a second thought. They'd turn me into Mungo's disturbed ward, and then tell the world. That isn't what I want, Hermione," he said, and she blinked as he said her first name. "I don't want anyone to see it coming," he said darkly.

"Fine... Blaise, so I get to know you? No guarantees about changing Moody's mind, but I'll give you that. Just in case you really do mean this," she said after quiet deliberation. He lit up with a true smile whatsoever, acting as if Hermione had just granted him another life on his death bed.

"You honestly rock, Hermione, you won't regret it," he said, and she grinned back, unsure why she had accepted his offer at all. But she figured that if he was really positive about what he wanted, who was she to stop him like Moody had? She shook her head, about to leave.

"Oh wait, Granger," he muttered, grin fading. He frowned, rolling up his left sleeve to display his forearm to her. "I don't want you to be shocked. I was put under cruciatus and imperius and forced to get it last summer," he said quietly, and she looked down, hoping he was spouting nonsense. But there it was, clear as day; the Dark Mark. She gasped, looking away, feeling like she was going to be sick. "I'll understand if you don't want to do this, but it's a part of me that will never go away, no matter my intentions," he said cautiously.

"No, I'll help... just put that away. I am glad you showed me Zabini," she said sincerely, and he smiled at her once again. She figured she needed to get used to seeing Slytherins smile at her, and not just smirk.

"So, how was your break?" he asked after a long silence, and Hermione was thrown off guard.

"Oh, it was alright, it was intense with the training and all," she replied politely, wondering if she should be talking about order business with him, but she assumed it was something he would have known either way. He nodded, looking as if he were left out of something important. "And yours?" she asked, wanting to keep the conversation alive now that it had been sparked.

A few hours later the train shuddered to a halt and both Hermione and Blaise jumped, shocked that the journey had gone so quick. They had spent the entire trip talking, and Hermione was puzzled how well they would be able to talk with each other after having never known each other. Albeit, Blaise had never really seemed as cocky as Draco when he was younger; he was more the silent one, therefore not making nearly as many enemies.

In fact, Hermione found herself wondering how she had not noticed him before. He was an average student, she supposed, he had always just blended in with the rest of the quiet students. And Hermione had never been one for the major social gatherings. Though she couldn't exactly stop herself from blushing when he smiled at her or brought up a particularly funny joke.

"I guess I'll go find Harry and Ron," she said softly and stood to leave. He sighed, following her out of the compartment, stopping in the hallway as she began to walk away. "Do you want to come?" she asked as she turned around and noticed he was alone.

"I doubt I'd be welcome," he grinned. Hermione frowned.

"Then I'll stay with you, I'd hate to leave you alone, even if I have only known you for a few hours," she said and he looked thoroughly taken aback, but said nothing.

Harry and Ron caught up with Hermione later that evening at dinner.

"Where were you on the train after patrol Hermione?" Ron asked curiously.

"Yeah, you said you'd be back in ten minutes," Harry added and Hermione looked away, pretending to be extremely interested in her squash.

"I just met some people I felt like talking to is all, guys," she brushed it off.

"Like who? Everyone you would have wanted to see came by our compartment, and the rest stayed at school over Christmas," Harry said, seemingly puzzled.

"Harry, I can't talk about it now, I promised I wouldn't tell you anything yet," she said quietly, gathering her books. She took one last bite of her meal and left the table before they could ask her anything else. Blaise had told her he would prefer it if Harry and Ron didn't know every detail about him, and she was intent on keeping his current confidentiality.

"How was your dinner, Hermione?" Blaise asked coming out of nowhere, and she spun around, eyes wide.

"Oh it was good... you just scared me a bit there," she muttered, holding her heart.

"Sorry, I'm a bit quiet sometimes," he said distractedly. "What are you doing this evening?"

"I'm not sure yet," she pondered, "I was thinking I'd start that huge charms essay."

"Do you mind if I work with you?" he asked, glancing at the floor.

"Oh not at all, I could use some company actually," she admitted, grinning at him. "It's been quite lonely with Malfoy gone, I have to say. Will you come to our common room in a bit?"

"You know he talks about you a lot," he said out of nowhere, smirking at her.

"Sorry who?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"Draco," Blaise replied simply. "I saw him over break and he was a bit nutty actually."

"You saw him?" she asked sharply, before relaxing sightly. "How is he doing?"

"He's in a bit of a mad war with his father at the moment, but other than that, pretty good. Lucius is obsessed with him getting the Dark Mark before the war. Honestly, I've no clue how he's avoided it this long. He managed to subdue me into getting it," he muttered darkly.

"Lucius did? Why would he be so concerned about whether or not you had the mark and not his own son?" Hermione asked, glancing at him as they continued to walk.

"There are some negative factors to growing up next door to the Malfoy's, Hermione. Lucius seemed to act like he was a second father to me... but he's definitely been trying to force Draco into it for two years now. I think he's just grown immune to the Imperius curse," he laughed coldly.

"A second father?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"Well yes," he said, sighing. "It's long and complicated and you wouldn't want to hear it."

Hermione raised an eyebrow as she realized their aimless wandering had led to the dungeons.

"Hang on a moment," he said, quickly retreating into the Slytherin common room and returning with his books. He grinned and she laughed spontaneously.

"Anyway, try me," she continued as they began walking back to Hermione's common room.

He smirked. "When I was twelve Lucius and my father were in a bit of an argument I suppose. One that shouldn't have escalated, but it did anyway. Next thing I knew Lucius told You-Know-Who that my parents were unfaithful and a whole load of other bullshit, and he believed him. If there's one thing that Death Eaters value, it's faithfulness. Probably the only thing, actually," he said absently. "So he had them killed," he said simply and Hermione froze in horror.

"He killed your parents?" she asked, eyes wide.

"Unfortunately," Blaise said shortly. "I was visiting family and when I got back... it wasn't a good scene. You might understand how badly I hate Death Eaters a bit more now," he muttered. Hermione figured he was rather composed for someone who had just told the story of their parents' murder.

"I'm sorry, Blaise," she said, glancing over at him.

He shrugged. "It's in the past."

They walked in silence to the Head commons, and worked on their essays quietly. Hermione realized how much his mere presence reminded her of Draco's, and she smiled.


	15. Horrific

The seasons changed abruptly and without warning as the year sped past, bringing the Hogwarts occupants into an overwhelming case of spring fever. The day the last of the snow finally melted the Professors had such difficulty keeping the students' focus, that some of them, like Flitwick, dismissed them early to spend the rest of their afternoon in freedom.

This freedom brought Hermione and Blaise sitting at the Slytherin table, in an otherwise empty hall, engaged in casual discussion. Hermione rested her head on her arms, folded across the surface of the table, eyes shut lightly.

"Blaise?" she asked quietly as he doodled on the less-than-immaculate Slytherin table, that Hermione assumed to be a complete opposite to the Gryffindor table. The Lions were all for preservation, while it seemed as though centuries of Serpents had scrawled their initials and various other patterns into its aged wood.

"Hmm?" he asked, looking up from the artistic 'BZ' he had been working on.

"I just realized I've never seen you date anyone at Hogwarts. Why is that?" she muttered, glancing up at him. He raised an eyebrow at her, lips curving into a smile.

"Maybe because I've already got a girlfriend?" he replied, shrugging.

"Is she here?" Hermione asked, suppressing a laugh at an image of a snake emerging victorious over a lion in battle, that seemed to be engraved deeply into the table.

"Nah, she goes to a smaller wizarding school in Italy," he answered. "I see her at Christmas and Summer."

"Have you been together long then?"

"About two years. Malfoy thinks I'm absurd, but he's the anti-committed himself, so what can you do," he grinned and Hermione laughed.

"What does he say about that?" Her mind drifted once again to the silver eyes of Draco Malfoy, imaging them filled with amusement at his best friend's situation; so utterly unlike his own. She allowed a sideways grin to slide over her features, and he scanned her with humour.

"He once called me a dumbass for wanting to shag only one woman," he said simply and Hermione snickered. "But that was also in sixth year. He's matured a bit since," he added, glancing at her expression though it was neutral.

"So what type of benefits would you have over someone like him?" she asked out of pure curiosity.

"He'd know if he gave one person a chance for long enough. Draco Malfoy, Hermione, has never understood the concept of love, which is a foreign topic to him, as he never grew up with anything of the sort. Someone like you might have trouble understanding what exactly that would be like, but he refuses to listen when I say how brilliant it is," he smirked and Hermione swallowed. She never pegged Blaise to be romantic, but his words brought on a different type of longing to her mind.

She wanted the brilliance.

A silence encompassed the pair once more, this time with Hermione deep in thought. She had dated, sure, but the concept of love Blaise spoke so easily of, had yet to hit her.

To her horror she felt her eyes become warm and quickly glanced down at the table, pretending to be interested in the mindless scribbles of the Slytherins. She was unsure why his words had affected her so deeply. The path of love, she had always been told, was a long and complicated one, and she hadn't even taken the first step.

"Let's get out of here," Blaise said softly, jerking her back to the great hall. "It's too nice to spend all day in school," he grinned. Hermione smiled gratefully back and they walked into Hogsmeade to be greeted by many other students in the village illegally. She shook off the urge to punish each one, and realized that they too were merely getting away on the afternoon off.

Over the next two hours, Hermione was able to dismiss the puzzling new situation that had overtaken her thoughts previously. As they finally sat down in the Three Broomsticks to order drinks, laden with shopping, her mind once more began to drift.

She knew it was rather unlike her, but she began to consider the boys in her year who she may possibly have something in common with. Anyone who might be worth time to see if they were the first step. For some reason that threw her off entirely, the only person that she could force to come to mind was a blond-haired, silver-eyed person. Frowning, she stared into her glass, watching the bubbling liquid as she was suddenly jolted to the present by a loud scream outside of the restaurant.

She glanced over at Blaise and he looked just as confused, but quickly stood and moved to the door as another scream followed the first.

"Where'd everyone go?" Blaise asked as he opened the door into an empty street. Hermione raised an eyebrow and glanced around, eyes widening as a jet of red light shot past.

"Blaise..." she began as she located the source of the curse.

"Oh fuck," he muttered as he followed her gaze. "How the hell did they get in here?"

Grouped along the edge of the town, wands in hand, masks securely in place, stood a herd of Death Eaters, a few random students running frantically to escape.

Hermione's knees went weak as she became frozen to the ground. She didn't notice as Blaise tried to move her away from the door, until he hit her on the back of the head, knocking her out of her trance.

"We've got to go, Hermione," he muttered, more serious than she had ever heard him and she nodded insecurely, eyes wide. She swallowed hard but made no indication of moving until Blaise grew frustrated and dragged her into Honeydukes before they could be spotted. She found her footing as they ran through the tunnel, into the school.

They went toward the great hall, seeing many other shaken students huddled in tight groups, shouting eagerly about what they had seen.

"Miss Granger, is it true about Hogsmeade?" she heard a voice and spun around to notice McGonagall staring closely at her, Dumbledore and Snape conversing just beyond.

"Yes, Professor," she said softly, unable to find any more words to speak.

"There are still students in the village," Blaise added and the elderly woman's eyes shot open with fear. She hurried off to speak with Dumbledore and Hermione scanned the crowd for signs of Harry or Ron.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Zabini, I hope the two of you would watch the students for me as I need to attempt to sort this out," Dumbledore said, hurrying over. They nodded and he left with McGonagall and Snape, all three drawing their wands.

Hermione drew her wand, and painfully slow, shut the doors with magic, disallowing anyone to leave, before slumping over onto the Gryffindor table while Blaise sat next to her.

"What the fuck just happened, Blaise?" she whispered, looking over at him.

"Don't you know, Hermione?" Another voice asked and she looked up to see Harry and Ron, looking anxious. They sat down across the table, staring intently.

"I don't know actually. There was an attack in Hogsmeade," she replied, shrugging.

Hermione noticed Harry's eyes flash and shift to Ron's.

"Don't you dare go after them Harry," she warned.

"I had no intention of that, Hermione," he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

"If only you were a bit more obvious, Potter," Blaise smirked.

"You don't understand, Hermione..." Ron began.

"What exactly don't I understand? The two of you have been trying to be the hero at everything for as long as I've known you. I know perfectly well what you want to do," she said harshly and Blaise raised an eyebrow at her.

"Fine, we'll stay," Harry muttered shortly after a moment's pause. "Come on, Ron."

They walked away and Hermione sighed heavily, burying her head in her arms. There seemed to be a commotion at the door so she hesitantly lifted her gaze. Her eyes widened as she saw the doors to the Great Hall wide.

"What the fuck did I _just _tell them?" she asked Blaise in a high-pitched voice, going towards the doors. Blaise slouched after, glaring at any poor student who may have happened to look in his direction. Hermione sure knew how to pick 'em. The nutty ones, that is.

* * *

Hermione threw open the entrance doors, running into the vast grounds, searching in any direction for sign of either Harry or Ron. She turned around, eyes filled with worry, to see Blaise locking the door behind him. 

"Do you see them Blaise?" She asked cautiously, spinning around to take a second look.

"They can't have gotten far, don't worry. And besides," he grinned, "I think those two can more than take care of themselves."

"But I'm usually the one saving both their arses," she muttered to herself, taking a few careful steps toward the greenhouses. "Do you think they..." she began, noticing that Blaise was no longer by her side. Her eyes widened in fear.

"Blaise, this isn't funny," she breathed, frozen to the spot. "I mean it, Blaise," she repeated, louder. "Fuck, don't you..."

She let out a muffled scream as a cold hand twisted itself over her mouth, another pinning her hands behind her back. Her eyes widened in terror as she felt a warm breath dangerously close to her ear.

"Don't worry, Zabini's fine," the cold voice said. "For the time being, that is. The Dark lord hates betrayal," he whispered menacingly.

She searched deep into her mind, desperately scouring for a plan of action. The hand was much too strong for her to reach for her wand, there was no way she would be able to apparate out of the grounds, and the doors to the entrance hall were still locked.

"Now," the voice continued, breaking into her furious thought. "Where is Harry Potter?" he spat out.

They didn't have Harry and Ron. It raced through her mind over and upon itself, until it was a mess of thought. Hermione let out a breath, perhaps harder than she had intended over her captor's hand.

"I wouldn't get too excited. There's no way he can escape if he's still on the grounds," he drawled. "See past the greenhouses there," she followed his instructions, seeing the slightest swish of a cloak. "And over there, by the edge of the forest," again, she noticed Death Eaters hidden among the trees. "Call them," he whispered.

"I'll never... bloody... hand over my best friend, you bastard," she growled, stomping hard on his foot, given a moment to pull out her wand, pressing it close to his heart. She halted in fear as she saw the easily recognizable long blond hair. "It's you..." she whispered, her hand beginning to shake for the first time.

"Can you imagine the luck, Miss Granger, that I could find you with the traitor, as well as Harry Potter, when your trustful Headmaster is rounding up my decoy Death Eaters in Hogsmeade still, unaware of anything here. The Dark Lord would be proud, indeed."

Hermione threw a desperate glance to the doors, squinting at the handles. That had to have been a trick of the light... the doors didn't just rattle. Few locking charms are unable to handle force...

"Fine. We'll compromise," she said, not lowering her wand. "You call off your Death Eaters, I'll see if I can find Harry." Her eyes were focused intently on the doors, her mind pouring all conscious thought into willing them open. It would be far too risky to attempt the counter-charm. No one would be able to use one from the inside. Blaise was a rather accomplished wizard.

He removed his mask, setting it upon his head, cold grey eyes burning with hate. So similar, yet terribly unlike his son's. "Lower your wand," he drawled, and she obliged, eyes focused on his. He shouted a command, and through her peripheral vision, Hermione could see several people retreating far into the forest.

"Now, hold up on your end of the bargain," his eyes glittered with malice. She took a deep breath, watching the doors shake with more intensity. "Call Potter, Miss Granger."

"Now." His wand was directly at her, without the slightest tremor.

"Harry," she swallowed. "It's not funny anymore," she said quietly.

"Louder," he snarled.

"Come on..." she whispered, the flaw in her plan. He noticed her intense gaze, and spun around, as the doors slammed open, several professors as well as a herd of students, rushing out of the hall onto the grounds.

"You little bitch," the oldest Malfoy muttered to her, as he reached into his pocket and vanished. Her eyes widened in horror as she noticed the sudden free-for-all of the discovered Death Eaters and the inhabitants of Hogwarts. She watched closely, absolutely frozen to do anything. It seemed, the great battle, had begun.


	16. Surreal

Hermione dodged yet another curse as she ran through the fields, tossing a stunner over her shoulder, not bothering to check which side her target was on. The air was filled with shouts, screams and the various whizzing of numerous spells. The many shades of magic were ironically appeasing to her eyes, as she became frozen, her vision blurred.

She hadn't seen or heard anything about Blaise, Ron, Harry or anyone else for that matter. At the time, she chose to accept this as good news, though she was aching to know that her best friends were alright.

Now and then a strangled yell or shriek would pierce the air, freezing Hermione to the very soul. She found herself wondering endless thoughts, becoming jumbled inside her brain. Where was Dumbledore; had he made it back yet? Had the Order been summoned? Had the Death Eaters called in reinforcements, or perhaps... their leader? She shook in fear at the idea of Lord Voldemort being on this very field, in her own schoolyard. The terror mixed with hatred, creating an unnerving sensation deep in her stomach.

If only she could find some sort of sign...

"Hermione!" a voice called, and she spun around, eyes wide at the sight of a curse that was aimed only seconds ahead of her. She furiously located the source of the voice, grinning in slight relief.

"Ron," she breathed, running over to him. "I can't..."

"Hermione, he's here," he muttered, cutting her off. "I've just heard from Seamus, Harry's gone after him."

Her mouth opened in shock.

"You mean, You-know-who?" she asked quickly. Ron nodded feverishly.

"We have to find him, 'Mione," he said urgently. In an unspoken agreement, they began running closer toward the forest. Hermione tried hard not to look down at the ground, where both death eaters and students lay motionless. That Hufflepuff in sixth year, and those Ravenclaws... they've only been stunned, she convinced herself.

As they ran deeper into the heart of the battle, Hermione couldn't stand looking and tried to stop, to shut her eyes and will it all away. Only the determination in her heart that said she needed to help her best friend kept her going.

As she ran, every shot of black hair, every swish of a cloak sent her eyes spinning, searching relentlessly for him. She grew frantic and paranoid, as her close watch seemed to be in vain, and she saw no one else she recognized until...

"Ron, Hermione!" Her heart melted at the sound of her name, and the two turned back around, grinning widely at the sight of Harry Potter, grinning, wand held loosely by his side. His smile told Hermione everything she needed to know, and his wind-blown hair, shining emerald eyes, and flushed cheeks were the image she planted into her mind as the man who had always been there for her, over the past 7 years of her life.

"Harry... you did it?" she asked tentatively, taking in his appearance. "Oh Harry, your arm," she said fussily, noticing the twisted look of his left arm, clearly broken.

"I don't feel it," he grinned, and so did Ron and Hermione, so caught up in pure euphoria. No words were spoken for a moment. Ron and Harry shared an awkward hug, and Hermione laughed as she brushed away a tear. She shoved Ron aside and threw her arms around Harry's neck tightly.

"I'm so proud of you, Harry," she whispered as she held on to him.

"Nothing would have been accomplished if it wasn't for you, Hermione," he replied, wrapping his good arm around her back. She pulled back, smiling, and suddenly felt a flag pop up in the very rear of her brain. Her lips quickly reversed themselves into a deep frown, and she stepped away, staring eagerly into the still fighting crowds.

It all happened too quick; she knew there was something wrong. Harry wasn't meant to defeat the Dark Lord this easily; it had to have been a fluke. It just wasn't right, so many months of training for a mere half hour of battle. Blaise, her mind told her. There had to be something wrong with him; that was why her brain had stopped her so suddenly.

"I'll be back," she muttered, and ran away, leaving Harry and Ron watching in curiosity.

"Blaise!" she shouted as she ran, wand ready, she searched for a good ten minutes, finding that no one else seemed to know the leader of the dark side was actually gone. If they did, they were hiding it well.

"So, Granger, here we are," said a cold voice and she groaned, finding herself once more face to face with Lucius Malfoy. "You realize how badly you've spoiled everything?" he asked her in a deadly voice that sent shudders up her spine relentlessly. She shut her eyes as she felt his wand pressed into her temple, quaking with fear.

She was without words, and stood, listening to his taunts, working up the courage to talk. Lucius Malfoy knew; it was the only explanation for his burning hatred. He knew that her best friend had killed his only faith.

"I will rebuild this empire, with the shattered remains, you'll see," he sneered wickedly. "Oh that's right, you won't be around long enough." The wand was pushed deeper into her hair. "So how would you like to go, Granger? Slow and painful? One simple curse, so the world can be rid of you for good?" Still she had no response, determined not to dignify him with her thoughts on the situation.

It didn't look good; she had a fuming death eater on her case, wand ready for the kill.

"Nothing to say? Then let's end this now," he whispered cruelly, drawing back slightly. "_Avada Kedav—" _

She shut her eyes in submission; after all those years of reading and training, she had froze when everything she had was needed the most. She deserved this end for being such a failure. She cracked an eye open as she realized that she hadn't heard the last of the curse. Her eyes widened as she saw her supposed murderer on the ground, eyes opened slightly. His wand lay loose at the tips of his fingers, arm tossed across the ground.

She scanned the field, very aware of her heart beating loudly and rapidly in her chest. She blinked away the image that she knew didn't exist. But he didn't vanish.

He was staring at the immobile form on the ground, eyes burning with hatred, until they shifted on her and she saw concern inside those silver depths. He walked toward her, glancing at the form of his father, lips pursed.

"Is he stunned?" she whispered, eyes watering.

"No, dead," he replied bitterly, turning his gaze once more upon her. She was suddenly overwhelmed with nerves after being apart for so long. He tucked his wand into the pocket of his jeans and traced the outline of her jaw with the same hand. He trailed his fingers to the back of her neck, and she exploded from the heat of his contact that she had forgotten about.

He tilted her head towards his, placing his lips against hers without words, in the softest kiss she had ever experienced, but her heart instantly went into overdrive. It held more emotion than she had ever thought one kiss could contain, and she responded with as much passion as she could gather, ready to give herself to the power of his lips when he pulled away, only far enough to enable half an inch of space between the two of them.

"Did I ever mention that I missed you terribly?" he whispered against her mouth, shutting his eyes. She stared at him, his silvery hair messed by the wind, and she had never seen him more beautiful. When he opened his eyes once more they reflected the sun brightly and Hermione was blinded temporarily. The recent events finally pervaded her mind as her eyes began to flood with tears that she refused to let fall.

"You didn't, no," she breathed, swallowing. He smirked and ran an arm around her back, pulling her body to his in complete contact. She blinked and stared at his eyes, now positively glowing with mischief. He closed the last of the space between them, kissing her forcefully, as he bit hard on her lower lip. Without conscious thought she moaned softly at the sensation and the kiss soon became a battle for dominance. Hermione poured all of her fear, anxiety and frustration into him, keeping up with each stroke of his tongue, and he gladly welcomed it, determined not to pull away until the lack of oxygen grew too great.

"Well," he drawled at last, breathing harsh and erratic. "I did." She laughed quietly, leaning into his chest, heart beating furiously. As the world seemed to drift back to its original position, the realness of the current situation hit her hard. Looking at the numerous motionless bodies on the ground brought bile into her throat and she quelled the urge to vomit. She was struck by guilt at every thought, every wonder of who else could be lying on the ground, having taken their last breaths already.

And here she was, safe and comfortable, off to a far side of the field, with Draco Malfoy. It seemed wrong; she was the one who had trained so hard for this event, not the fourth and fifth years still fighting desperately with their limited knowledge.

The screaming, it seemed, had all but vanished. Those who remained fighting were few; students and professors were retreating to the castle.

"Will you stay for the rest of the year?" she muttered to the Slytherin deep in thought next to her. He shrugged.

"I suppose so," he replied, staring once more at the lifeless body of his father, several feet away. He began walking toward the castle, sending her sideways glances until she caught up.

"And what about getting away from the war, the death eaters?" she asked, grinning in spite of herself.

"There were certain things higher on my list of priorities to attend to." He smirked and snuck an arm around her waist. She merely shook her head at him. Damn him for making her smile in the midst of war.

* * *

Dinner that evening was one that Hermione would regret attending for the rest of her life. It was the most somber affair she had ever been to, filled with shock, terror and endless tears.

Dumbledore had spoke at great length of the war and its true outcome. The students were silent, tears streaming down the cheeks of many at their diminished numbers. He had read from a scroll, respectfully bringing the brave souls to their remembrance who had passed in the battle. It was the last name, however, that the Headmaster choked on, that brought a dead silence upon the crowd, and that the true happenings began to sink in, amidst the numbness.

Harry Potter. There were cries of denial, of anger, of heartbreak. Their leader had not gone down, of course not. He had defeated the greatest enemy, for Merlin's sake! Hermione buried her head in her arms, not trusting herself to keep at a stable level of emotion. Ron's eyes were red, watery, and he appeared entirely broken.

The truth came out. After the downfall of Lord Voldemort, his most determined servants had imposed on Harry, forcing him into a twenty-to-one battle. It was hopeless, and he had fallen at the wand of Lucius Malfoy. Hermione choked on a sob at this news, and Draco paled visibly, pushing his dinner around with a fork, failed of composure.

Harry had been caught off guard, in a light mood from his victory, and hadn't seen the advancing crowd, hadn't felt the overpowering burning hatred until it was too late.

At four of the five tables, it was hard to notice a dry eye. Particularly one was the most subdued, and the fifth was silent. Not a single remark came from the Slytherin Table. One or two of the girls had tossed aside their facades, allowing grief to take them.

The warning she had felt, it wasn't for Blaise. She had assumed Harry and Ron were both safe; hell, they were right beside her! Blaise had been fine, if not for her own stupidity, maybe she could have helped fight off the Death Eaters. She could have at least warned them of what she was feeling.

By the time dinner was over, few plates had been touched, and Hermione had cried her eyes literally dry of moisture. She spoke briefly with Ron, wrapped him in a tight hug and departed alone to her common room.

She spent the evening by the fire; sprawled lazily across the couch, desperate to wake up from this nightmare. When Draco entered, he said nothing, and merely sat by her, offering comfort in his presence. She wished her voice would work to express in the smallest way her appreciation.

Late in the night she stood and went to bed, though she didn't sleep.

As with the rest of the week; sleep became a foreign topic, unknown to her mind. All students had been excused from classes for the next week, and to Hermione, it was longer than the past 17 years of her life had been.

The remembrance service had been another sad and tearful day, bringing in members of the order, family of the deceased, and other witches and wizards there to express their pain. Hermione had chosen to leave early.

* * *

"Things won't ever be the same, will they?" she asked the Head Boy that evening. It was the first time she had spoken to him since on the field, possibly at all.

"Nothing will ever remain the same forever," he replied softly. "But no, this won't change back." She realized she admired his honesty. Anyone else would have said that everything will be alright; things will return to normal after a while. What was normal, though, really?

"Is it awful that I don't want to move on and get over this?" she asked him quietly.

"Of course not," he answered, watching the fire intensely. "You have more right than anyone to grieve, and it's no ones place to stop you."

She lifted her feet onto the couch, into a cross-legged position and turned to look at him. She hadn't actually watched him recently. But his actions were the ones that spoke louder than his words, and she ached to see more.

"Thank you," she said tentatively, gauging his reaction.

"For?" he asked, turning to face her.

"I don't know," she said dismissively. "Understanding, I reckon."

"For pointing out the fact that I _do _have a heart in here somewhere?" he asked, allowing the ghost of a smirk to grace his features. She looked away.

"I didn't mean..."

"Don't mention it," he broke in gently.

"Malfoy?" she asked, and he jerked his head back towards her. "What is it like... to _kill _someone?" she questions, seeming terrified at the thought. He shrugged.

"It's not typically something I make a habit of," he began, and then sighed. "I doubt you know that I had never killed anyone before the war, it was a rather new experience." She shook her head; she always imagined that he had killed before, though when she thought of it, it was an odd assumption to make. She almost smiled at the thought of him being all talk...

"So how many people did you kill in the war then?" she asked, knowing she should stop, but she was just so curious. He pondered.

"One." He frowned, watching her. "Truth be told, I don't think it's something I'd like to make routine. Those Death Eaters you saw, most of them have been using the Avada since they were younger than our age. They get a type of sadistic thrill out of each kill they make, unfortunately. Or else it's just the fact that they're living up to the expectations of their master, that encourages them to kill even more. I know some just can't seem to get away from it so they sacrifice themselves to end their lives of torture. Like Blaise's parents for example. They refused to do his bidding, and my father tried to convince them otherwise, but eventually told his master, and his parents were murdered."

"But isn't it just a waste of a good life? Not only the one ended but the one doing the ending?" Hermione asked desperately.

"Sure it is, but they just can't see what's right or wrong anymore. They think killing _is _a good life, in some twisted way," he explained. Hermione shook her head but let the topic drop.

"What made you come back anyway?" She asked, brightening.

"I actually got rather bored, and I was tired of being alone. I began to hate everything about America, like how every damn person I met asked me 'oh, are you British?' in theirstupid American accents," he muttered, and Hermione couldn't stop a snort of laughter from escaping. He looked at her.

"That sounded attractive," he said, smirking.

"Thank you," she replied politely, grinning.

"How about you? Surely you didn't sit around and do nothing while I was gone?" he questioned, seeming genuinely interested.

"Well, schoolwork, for one," he laughed. "I got to know Blaise quite well," she continued, ignoring him.

"How well?" he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Not _that_ well," she answered, inside feeling warm at his apparent jealousy. "He has a girlfriend, you know," she grinned.

"Yeah, her," he drawled. "She's still around, is she?"

"Yes, she is," she replied strongly. "Blaise loves her, you know," she informed him and he shook his head.

"He says he does. But she's got him whipped like no one's business, it's fucking hilarious actually," Hermione couldn't help but laugh.

"You're lying," she stated.

"Am not," he smirked. "He'll deny it if you ask though, so I wouldn't recommend it."

"Yeah well, liar, I'm going to sleep, good night," she muttered, mocking anger. He looked hurt.

"Don't give me that," he scoffed. "Come here." She did as he said, carefully standing next to him and he pulled her down to him still on the couch, pressing his lips firmly against hers, before letting her go and he smirked as she pretended to glare at him, and went to sleep. And sleep, she managed.


	17. Misinterpretation

Hey look, I'm back :) I want to say I was purely OVERWHELMED by the amount of reviews last chapter! I loved every single one, and I hope some of you are still around to read this one. I've been having plenty of inspiration but this was hell to write. It wasn't until I sat down and took a different approach that I was able to write it, and if I get just half the reviews I got for last chapter, It'll be a success in my opinion. It's a bit of a random chapter, but I hope in some small way it will be worth your time.

* * *

After the initial shock had worn off and the students returned to classes, Hermione found it much more difficult coping though she had schoolwork to occupy herself now. Everything reminded her of Harry; the professors, the classes, even the inanimate things like meals and books.

Needless to say, she was not faring well at all. Her grades were suffering horribly, and she had taken to skipping several of her classes altogether. In any other year she would have already drawn up study tables for Ron and Harry, as NEWTs were zooming toward them at an unexpected rate. Instead she wasn't doing the homework, and wasn't attending classes. It was the event most students had never even dreamt of seeing.

Ron wasn't speaking to her. She didn't know the reason; perhaps he blamed her or expected her to be coping much better, and he was just ashamed of her. She didn't exactly care to find out. The only thing that truly kept her going was Draco Malfoy.

He would make magical copies of his notes in all the subjects she had missed and plant them in her bag so she wouldn't accuse him of treating her differently because of the death of her best friend. In the evenings the two would talk for hours about anything but the war. He was careful not to mention anything regarding the object of her current depression.

Hermione, having never experienced the death of a loved one before, was confused. From all she had heard, people tend to accept death once they get closure. So why was it that she was getting worse and not better? She thought she had accepted the fact that she would never see the sparkle of her friend's shocking green eyes, she would never see him holding up a snitch in triumph, the one thing he truly loved.

She found it strangely ironic that the one who had ridiculed her best friend for years was the one who was, in a way, comforting her through his death. Draco had never openly mentioned Harry at any time, nor had he spoken of his care for Hermione, but she understood anyway. And she was unbelievable grateful to him, but never spoke of it.

One night after a day Hermione had spent holed up in her room, she sat in the commons, staring morosely into the fire. Draco sat down next to her, creating a plate of sandwiches, but she just shifted her gaze onto the plate and back to the fire. Draco could see the bright orange glow in her eyes.

"Eat," he said softly, not looking directly at her. She shook her head.

"Thanks, I'm not hungry," she replied, fidgeting with a loose string on the blanket she was sitting upon.

"You haven't been hungry for a day and a half," he reminded her, leaning back against the couch.

"I know," she said quietly, glancing at him to make sure he wasn't angry. He stared back at her and she shivered at the depth of his eyes. After he had been away for so long, she found it hard to readjust to having him around all of the time, and she had forgotten how complex he could be.

She found she was spending less time with Blaise than she would have chosen to, but when it really came down to it, she wasn't spending much time with anyone at all. Except for Draco, that was. But they _did _live together, after all.

"I spoke to Blaise today," Draco began, moving his potions assignment out of his bag. "He asked how you were doing."

"What did you tell him?" she asked, looking at him. He shrugged.

"I said I wasn't sure, and he said he might come see you tomorrow," he replied. Hermione wasn't sure whether or not to be excited at the news. She had no aspirations of leaving the commons anytime soon, but she didn't want Blaise to see her like this.

"Are you going to classes tomorrow?" he asked outright, gazing intently at wall past her head, deep in thought.

"I don't know. Probably not," she said shortly. He sighed audibly, turning his gaze on her.

"Look Granger, I've been trying to avoid it but it won't turn out beneficial to either of us," he began, watching her reaction closely. "NEWTs are only a month away, and I _know _you know that, and I know you have no motivation, not that I blame you, but this isn't like you. I've seen you every year since first treating year end exams like the end-all." He looked into her eyes, though she refused to hold his intense gaze. "I don't want to see you do poorly on the test that _really _matters."

Hermione knew he was genuinely concerned but it didn't stop her blood from boiling only slightly at his statement. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. And she bloody well _knew _how important her NEWTs were.

"Malfoy, I understand you care, and I _am_ grateful, but honestly, you were the last person I expected to bother me about this. I'm sorry, but it's my own decision whether I go to classes or not. The reason I'm not going in the first place is that I know people will question me relentlessly about things I don't want to discuss," she explained with a tone of desperation. Draco was silent for a moment and she let out a frustrated sigh, covering her face with the Slytherin blanket she was currently huddled under, like she did as a child. Draco was almost tempted to smile, when he realized she wasn't going to come back out.

When she did it was without warning, and she looked ready to burst. "This just sucks! _Why _him?" she asked him, not expecting an answer, trying furiously to stop the tears from passing down her cheeks. "He did nothing but good, and this is where he ended up," she continued, pulling her knees onto the couch and wrapping her arms around them.

Draco could think of no suitable answer so he merely watched her for a moment.

"It's not fair," she added stubbornly, looking at him. "Has anyone ever mentioned how creepy it is when you stare at them like that?"

He blinked at her sudden change in mood and topic. "No, actually, they haven't," he replied, directing his gaze elsewhere.

There was a knock on the portrait and Draco stared at Hermione for a moment then stood up to open it. Hermione watched, lost for words, as Ron Weasley walked in, throwing himself down on the other couch. Draco shot her a glance, and she nodded, before he closed the door and walked over to her.

"I'll be upstairs," he said quietly so Ron couldn't hear. She gave him a tiny smile before he left the room.

"So," she prompted conversation with Ron as he stared angrily at the table.

"So? Hermione, what's the matter with you?" he asked darkly. "Any reason you haven't been in class for _days _now?"

"I... haven't been up to it, Ron, that's all," she answered quietly, not allowing herself to meet his gaze.

"That's your excuse?" he asked in disbelief. "You haven't bloody been up to it," he repeated and Hermione suddenly felt sick.

"Yes, if you want to call it an excuse," she replied scathingly.

"You think you have a right to keep locked up in here than I do?" he asked angrily. "You've hardly _spoken_to him all year."

"You think since I've been working my ass off with head duties it doesn't give me a right to be upset about the death of my best friend?" she asked, anger rising.

"Clearly your best friends don't even belong to Gryffindor anymore, as you spend all your time with Slytherins," he said simply, glaring at her. "Harry was never your best friend."

"Don't you bloody talk about him like that," she muttered, voice quaking with rage. "Don't you bloody _insult_ his memory that way. Harry was the best person I knew, and I wouldn't trade him for anyone."

"Yeah? So what impulses you to spend every minute in here with Malfoy?" he asked, voice rising. "If you care so much about Harry, why even speak with his murderer."

"Draco did _not_ murder Harry, he is _not _his father, Ron," Hermione wiped away at the tears flowing down her cheeks.

"If he isn't now, he will be." Hermione stared intensely at Ron, the one person who she thought would understand her entirely, and instead she suddenly hated him with every fibre of her being.

"Don't talk about things you don't fucking understand," she hissed, beyond upset and burning with animosity. "Get out of here."

He sneered at her then, but didn't turn to leave. "Of course, you wouldn't want to keep Malfoy waiting, would you? He could move on to his next little whore."

With this remark he knew he'd gone too far. At least, far enough to find Hermione's wand aimed at him, hand shaking with anger. He shook his head and left the room, leaving Hermione to let out a strangled cry of frustration and she stormed up the stairs. She threw open the door neatly labeled 'Head Boy' and the occupant of the room glanced up in surprise.

"What's wrong?" he asked, frowning as he saw her red eyes.

"Ron's an idiot," she muttered, glancing down. She took a deep breath, looking back at him. "Could I maybe, stay with you tonight?" she asked hesitantly, eyes hopeful.

"Um yeah, sure, it's a bit of a mess, but..." he said, glancing around the room.

"No," she said softly, cutting him off. "I mean, can I stay _with _you?" she repeated and he paled as he understood her meaning.

"I don't think that's a good idea right now," he said gently, massaging her shoulders, but she pulled away.

"Why not?" her eyes flashed and he sighed.

"Hermione," he began and paused, as she let the sound of her name in his drawl wash over her. "Meaning no offense, you're not thinking rationally."

"So? I don't care, I want this," she whispered, catching his gaze, hating the pity it contained but unable to look away.

"I won't deny I want it too, but just not now," he said softly.

"Then do me this favour, please," she asked, discarding her remaining pride. "I want to forget, just for one night. Is that too much to ask?" Her lip quivered as she fought to stop more tears from flowing.

The pain in her eyes was too much, and he felt his resolve weaken. He traced her cheek with his thumb, wiping away the stray moisture. She shut her eyes at the touch, taking a shaky breath.

"I would..." he glanced away. "It feels wrong."

"It would feel right with any other girl, wouldn't it?" she asked suspiciously. He shook his head.

"It's not even that; you're upset with Weasley and you're emotionally unstable. I don't want you to do anything you'll regret," he held her gaze once more.

"I won't regret it," she said quickly, losing patience. "Why can I not do anything that I might be unaccountable for? When you left," she took a breath. "Well, I did a lot of thinking while you were gone, about what you said. About giving immorality a chance," she gave him a conspiratorial glance and he laughed.

"You think sleeping with me will be immoral? That's hardly a reason, Granger," he smirked.

"Come on, Draco... yes or no?" she stated, holding her breath while he stared at her.

"Well," he drawled, taking his time. "Since you called me Draco..." he leaned towards her ear, biting down on her earlobe. "Yeah, alright," he whispered, eyes glowing.

He pressed his lips firmly to hers, trying to shove all negative feelings to the back of his mind. It couldn't possibly be considered as taking advantage if she was willing, could it? But as he kicked the door shut, pulling her as close as he could manage, he was lost of coherent thought. She was a damn good kisser; always a promising aspect.

* * *

Draco stalked down to breakfast the next morning, feeling quite irritable. Firstly he had overslept, forcing him to spend a mere five minutes in the shower, not to mention the fact that he had awoken with Hermione next to him. He felt as if he should be thrilled but just could not shake the thoughts that it was wrong all the same. She wasn't even thinking.

And he had been spooked by his abnormal awakening, causing him to hurry off without bothering to wake her, as she had said she didn't plan on going to classes. But the more he thought about it, the worse he felt about _that_ too. She may have just assumed he had treated the night like a one-night stand.

Which he _didn't _think at all. In fact, it was the complete opposite and Draco found it hard to admit that it had quite possibly been the best night of his life. Adding to his frustration the fact that he couldn't celebrate it in a carefree manner like he would have wished.

Needless to say, as he threw himself down next to Blaise in potions after a skipped breakfast, the latter was taken aback.

"Rough night?" the brunette asked lightly, receiving a cold glare from the blond. Blaise sighed. "You got laid again, didn't you?"

The blond threw aside his visage of loathing for a moment to be replaced by question. "How the hell do you _always _know?"

"It's either a gift or a curse, I've yet to decide," Blaise replied, grinning. "So who was it?"

"Three guesses," the other drawled, tone dripping with sarcasm. Blaise pretended to go through a mental checklist.

"I've no idea," he said, though it was obvious he hadn't thought hard.

Draco glanced up the room at Snape; it was clear that the professor was allowing their conversation to continue without mentioning it.

"It was Hermione," Draco muttered, looking away from Blaise.

"No way," Blaise said simply, watching Draco. "You can't be serious, Malfoy."

"Something you'd like to share, Malfoy?" Snape drawled from the front of the dungeons.

"Not particularly, Professor," he replied simply, hardly bothering to glace at the man.

"Fine, keep it down then," Snape added, and continued with the lesson. Draco found himself for a moment and shot a smirk at Weasley, who appeared outraged. He shot a rude gesture at Draco who sneered back at him.

"No Weasley, I won't do this potion for you," he said, loud enough for Snape to hear. Blaise snickered beside him, and the Gryffindors shot them dirty looks.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Weasley, obviously you knew you wouldn't be able to perform in this course, so why bother?" Snape asked, before returning to the lesson once more. Draco opened his mouth to continue, as revenge would be sweet, but Blaise cut him off, jerking him back into his dark manner.

"Tell me you didn't fuck Hermione, Malfoy," he whispered, expression serious. "You of all people know what she's going through."

"It was unintentional," he stated, sighing. "Weasley was a bastard to her and she got riled and, well, asked me to, and I told her I wouldn't but..."

"But you did anyway? Tell me how something like that can be 'unintentional,'" Blaise repeated in disbelief.

"I don't bloody know, alright? I lost control," he muttered, skimming his notes under the pretense of looking busy.

Blaise stared at his friend for a moment in contemplation. "Will you talk to her?"

"No, I don't think I will," Draco replied scathingly. Blaise raised an eyebrow.

"If you're going to be like that..." Blaise said angrily, stubbornly ignoring Draco for the next five minutes, taking down the notes. Draco proceeded to sulk once more, folding a piece of parchment into a tiny swan to relieve his anger, and then squashing it with a fist.

"Tell me how she was at least," Blaise commented, smirking slightly.

"Incredible," Draco replied without a thought. Blaise looked shocked, watching Draco out of the corner of his eye as he finished copying the ingredients for the day's potion.

"That's a new one," Blaise said, laying down his quill. "You mean she surpasses 'mediocre,' 'nothing special,' and 'too bloody kinky?'" Blaise smirked as Draco laughed at the titles he had given other girls.

"Of course she does," he said stubbornly. "Which is why I plan on keeping her."

"So, Draco Malfoy," Blaise began in a cheesy tone, "how does it feel to be in love?" The blond's eyes flashed as they turned on his best friend.

"I wouldn't know, Zabini," he said, with a harsh coldness to each syllable. "As I've never been in _love,_" he said the word as if it would kill him. His expression lightened as a thought hit him. "I should go talk to her at lunch, do you think?" he asked Blaise.

Blaise stared at his friend in disbelief for a moment, before laughing out loud at his misguided antics.

"Yeah, sure," Blaise said, smirking. "Just don't let your thoughts get _too _consumed by her or anything."

Draco shot him a glare as he pulled out his cauldron, and Blaise could have sworn he heard him mumbling something to himself, and he specifically heard the words not, bloody, and love.


	18. Charm

Chapter 18.. not much to say. In writer's block over this chapter, I started a new fic, Fidelity's Fleece. Check it out. Bit of a wait for this one, but it isn't short and it was tricky to write. Hopefully it's worth it. As usual, I only own the plot.

* * *

"Hey Malfoy!" Ron Weasley shouted down the corridor after lunch. Draco rolled his eyes, cursing under his breath as he turned around to face the enraged redhead.

"What is it?" he asked impatiently, as Blaise raised an eyebrow beside him.

"Where are you going?" Ron demanded, pulling out his wand.

"As if it's any of your business, but I'm going to the Heads common room," he informed the redhead.

"I'll say this once Malfoy, leave Hermione alone," Ron muttered, glaring at the blond.

"A bit rich from you, wouldn't you think?" Draco replied, chuckling as Ron's wand was pointed at him. "You plan to duel me, do you?"

"Wands or bare hands Malfoy, your pick," Ron asked, a slightly maniacal grin on his face.

"In that case..." Draco muttered, rolling up his sleeves and loosening his tie. Blaise took a position of observer, leaning leisurely against the wall. "I'll allow you the first hit, if you'd wish."

Ron gave him a cautious look and Draco could sense his insecurity. He smirked.

"Unless of course, you never expected me to go through with it."

"You son-of-a-bitch," Ron whispered, throwing aside his wand as he wound up to swing squarely at Draco's jaw. Draco sneered as he saw Snape walk up behind Ron, eyes glowing with mirth.

"Detention, Weasley," Snape said easily, looking at Blaise, who was laughing openly. "What happened here, Mr. Malfoy?"

"He attacked me for no reason, sir," the blond drawled, grinning wickedly.

"Come with me, Weasley," the professor said as he turned and abruptly walked away. Ron shot the two Slytherins a glare and Blaise gave him a mock wave, Draco cracking up behind him.

"That worked out entirely too well," Draco said as they continued towards the commons. When they arrived at the portrait, Blaise grinned.

"I definitely forgot I had to finish my transfiguration essay for this afternoon, so I think I'll go do that now," he said, knowing full well that Draco could see through him.

"Bye, _jackass_," he replied, taking a deep breath as he pushed the door open.

He didn't have to look hard before noticing the brunette relaxed on the couch, lazily vanishing and re-appearing the desk with each flick of her wand.

"Hey," he said softly, sitting down next to her on the sofa.

"Hello," she said airily, not moving her fixated stare from the desk. "How was potions?"

"It was fine," the blond muttered, watching the desk flicker on and off. "I'll just ask; are you mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" she countered without hesitation, finally lifting her gaze to him. He blinked, shocked.

"If I remember correctly," Hermione continued, "I was the one who asked _you_ to sleep with_ me_, Malfoy." She grinned slightly and Draco was taken aback.

"I took advantage of the situation either way," he reasoned, wanting to slap himself for doing so.

"I said I wouldn't regret it, and I don't," she said, shrugging. "If anything, it was quite an enjoyable night." She smiled to herself, flushing light pink. Draco smirked at her comment.

"So is this what you do with all of your hours in here?" he asked, as she returned to her work with the desk.

"Sometimes I have it change colours," she informed him. He nodded, trying to look interested. Setting her wand down, she looked at him. "It gets rather boring, if you'd like to know the truth."

"I can imagine..." he began. "Will you come to transfiguration with me this afternoon? You don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want."

She sighed, fidgeting once more with her wand.

"Fine," she said, defeated. "But I'm going to hold you to that. And I _will _blame you if Ron and the others bother me."

He grinned. "If that's what it takes, then I will keep them away from you," he decreed. "What about Blaise?"

"That depends."

"On?" he asked.

"I'll talk to him as long as he doesn't treat me any differently from what he usually would," she muttered, feeling suddenly insecure.

"That can be arranged," he muttered, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and she grinned, leaning into him.

"I do believe you've gone soft, Draco Malfoy," she told him.

"Have not," he said shortly, quickly standing up. "It's time to go anyway." Hermione laughed at his behaviour before biting her lip worriedly.

"I'm nervous, now," she said quietly and his expression softened.

"Don't be. If anyone gets on your nerves, let me know and I'll bash their face in," he muttered distractedly. He planted a firm kiss to her lips before smirking and walking out of the portrait, leaving her gaping in the doorway.

* * *

Hermione walked into the classroom slightly after Draco, looking carefully at the prospective seating. There was a spot next to Neville, and another next to Parvati, neither of which she was keen on. She felt a pang of hurt as she noticed Ron doing his best to ignore her as everyone else whispered amongst themselves regarding the newest arrival to the class. 

Desperately, she skimmed the Slytherin side of the class, and her heart jumped. Blaise and Draco had saved her a spot. The brunette shot her a grin, as the blond just watched her, silver eyes gleaming. Biting her lip hesitantly, she walked across the centre aisle to take a seat next to Draco, listening as the whispers increased.

McGonagall entered the room, clearing her throat for attention. She shot Hermione a questioning glance as she noticed the source of distraction among the students, but she looked away, not wanting to talk to her professor.

Once the lecture had begun, Hermione immediately found her mind drifting. It scared and confused her, how she no longer had any enthusiasm for her schoolwork at all. She looked around the room at her peers, most of whom were taking notes, and felt a sudden wave of regret wash over her. She had still yet to think of any alternative to being locked forever out of the wizarding world after graduation.

When her eyes fell on Draco, he glanced at her from his peripheral vision, grinning as he saw her doing nothing.

"Bored?" he asked in a whisper. She nodded.

"Extremely," she returned and he laughed quietly.

He resumed his work, and her mind once again floated everywhere but transfiguration. The night before had been simply amazing. There was a small part of her mind that hadn't believed he would actually cave and do as she asked, but once he had begun there was no way she would have stopped him. As odd as it felt to have slept with the one man that most of the female population at Hogwarts craved, she didn't feel cheap.

Instead she felt needed, as if he had truly cared about her. Staring at his silver eyes, she recalled how they had been so full of passion that just the looks he had given her had set her on fire.

And his hands... They were certainly talented. She felt the color rising in her cheeks and couldn't stop a quiet whimper from escaping as her mind became overrun by unwanted thoughts, in class nonetheless.

The object of her thoughts raised an eyebrow, eyes full of laughter as he turned to look at her again. He grabbed a scrap of parchment, scribbling "_you okay?_" on it.

She was suddenly completely encompassed by desire for that same passion once again, the passion that she knew was so close to the surface. She took the quill out of his hand, her own brushing against the pale skin, and she was shocked by the sensation. After a failed attempt at writing an affirmative reply, as her hand was shaking altogether too hard to get out a proper answer, she nodded quickly, not trusting herself to speak.

He frowned at her, leaning forward. Her eyelids fell shut at his closeness, and the feel of his hot breath on her skin. She swore quietly under her breath, and he pulled back, puzzled.

"What do you need?" he whispered, sending a violent shudder down her spine.

"Nothing," she replied, eyes still shut. She wasn't about to admit that she needed him, especially in a room full of students. Why was this happening to her? She knew it was beyond lust, it was pure obsession, and it threw her off guard.

Draco on the other hand, had set aside his notes to observe the girl beside him. She was behaving beyond strangely, and seemed to be breathing heavier than usual. She was also furiously avoiding his attempts to make eye contact.

Out of frustration and concern, he finally reached over and turned her face to his. Her skin exploded from the touch, eyelids still heavy with need. He stared, confused into her eyes, as they had turned from their usual shade of brown to being very dark, almost black.

With an enormous amount of strength, she reached up and moved his hand off of her cheek, burying her head in her arms on the table.

"Tell me what's wrong," he demanded softly into her ear.

"Just leave me alone, please," she replied quietly, not looking directly at him.

Sighing heavily, Draco shared a puzzled glance with Blaise, following her wishes until the class finally ended. For Hermione, it had been an agonizing half hour, as she searched her brain for a reason she could be feeling so strongly towards him. Falling short, she became angry, not trusting herself to speak with him until after dinner that evening, even though the feelings had subsided when she was no longer directly beside him.

* * *

Hermione had left supper early, intending to get to the library before he could find her, and possibly do a bit of research. And if there was one thing she was good at, it was finding information.

She thought she was home free as she hurried out of the common room, only to find Draco on the other side, about to enter. He surveyed her with a cold glance, and she tried to look uninterested.

"Where are you going?" he asked quietly, leaning against the wall outside of the room.

"The library," she replied shortly, making to walk away from him.

"You have quite a short memory. The prefect's year-end celebration is tonight; we need to patrol the school for them," Draco said. "Besides, I won't let you avoid me forever."

"Damn, I forgot about that," she admitted bitterly, relieved to feel nothing out of the ordinary about him.

Running a hand through his platinum hair, Draco sighed. "Talk to me," he stated. "You were fine until class this afternoon."

"We have to be going for patrol now," she reminded him. "But I suppose we can talk on the way."

The walk was awkward and subdued at the beginning, neither too sure of what to say.

"Alright, so why wouldn't you talk to me in transfiguration?" Draco asked, breaking the silence.

"You don't want to know," Hermione informed him nervously.

"Yes, I do. Your eyes were black and it freaked the hell out of me," he admitted, stopping outside of a classroom to listen for students out past curfew.

"I... can't remember," she said lamely.

"Like hell you can't," he smirked. "What's it gonna take to get an answer out of you?" he asked suggestively, running his tongue along his lips.

Hermione's stomach lurched at this action, and her mind was flooded with the same thoughts that had controlled her mind that afternoon. She leaned against the wall for support, trying hard to eliminate the desire to take control of him. They were in a dark corridor, after all...

The blond's eyes widened in surprise as he noticed what was happening to her, and then he smirked, beginning to laugh outright. By the time he had regained his composure, clutching his stomach, Hermione was glaring at him.

"Merlin," he muttered, wiping his eyes. "Fuck, I completely forgot about that. This how you were feeling in class?" he asked. She nodded spitefully, focused intently on the way his hair fell sharply over his silver eyes.

"If you would stop laughing long enough to explain what the hell is so funny, Malfoy," she said coldly. He did as she asked, becoming serious.

"Ever heard of the Malfoy charm, Granger?" he asked, and she nodded slowly. "Good. You're under it."

"What do you mean?" she asked suspiciously. He pointed his wand at her, and she was able to think normally once more.

"It's a side effect of... well, sex, with someone of the Malfoy bloodline. Particularly the first time. I don't know which idiot came up with it, but one less trustworthy than me could use it to his advantage," the blond explained, smirking. Hermione bit back a comment at his sarcasm, knowing full well he probably had used it to his own advantage.

"So every girl you've ever shagged has... wanted you afterwards?" she asked hesitantly, feeling slightly awkward to be discussing her sexual activity with someone so much more experienced.

"More or less," he said thoughtfully until an idea hit him. "Except, the person will feel lust at a higher intensity, the more I care about them. In this case, you would've been fighting bloody hard to hold it back." He grinned and Hermione had to smile back at his revelation.

"So why didn't you just drag me off to a broom closet somewhere? I wouldn't have complained," he smirked.

"It was embarrassing and I didn't know what was happening," she said, blushing once more.

"I would have explained," he muttered, sneaking an arm around her waist.

"Yes, before or after you'd had your way with me?" she joked.

"Don't give me so much credit, Granger, you would have been all over me," he breathed in her ear. Feeling adventurous, she shoved him away from her into the wall, trapping him against the stone.

"Yeah, all over you?" she whispered in his ear, winding his tie around her hand as he watched her closely.

"Definitely," he replied, meeting her volume. "You would've been mad with lust."

She pulled his face closer to hers by his tie, so their lips were less than an inch apart.

"You sure about that?" she asked, tasting his lips with each word.

"Very sure," he whispered, eyes glowing with anticipation before she crushed his mouth with her own, quickly demanding entrance with her tongue. Draco moved away from the wall, wrapping one arm around her waist as the other slid up to her neck. Her other hand was buried into his hair, as the real contact was engaged in the heated battle of tongue on tongue.

He took control once more, moving to attack her neck and collarbone with his tongue, one hand drifting into her robes, and underneath her shirt as she brought his lips back to hers, moaning loudly. The hand she held onto his tie with worked madly to loosen it, beginning to unbutton his own shirt, as the kiss continued to further intensify.

Hermione was against the wall, though neither had noticed the switch. Draco leaned forward to taste her entirely, when her head smashed against the stone. It was enough for her eyes to open in pain and she stopped reacting to his advances. He withdrew, turning to see what she was staring at with wide eyes. Three first years stood in the hall, looking horrified but Draco smirked, moving his hand out from where it fiddled with her bra strap.

"Fifty points to Hufflepuff if you never mention this," Hermione bribed them after she had caught her breath. They looked grateful for a second, still wary of the two until they saw the Slytherin's eyes light up.

"Now Hermione," he said softly, but loud enough so the kids could hear him. "It doesn't work quite that way, does it?" he asked the Hufflepuffs, who were shaking in fear. "I say if you don't get out of my sight in ten seconds, your house will _lose _fifty points. Unfortunately the Head Girl isn't in shape with the rule book, I'm afraid," he said, appearing considerate at the same time.

The three quickly turned and ran, and Hermione laughed at Draco's sense of persuasion.

"You think they'll tell anyone?" she asked, though she found she really wouldn't have minded.

"They were far too embarrassed," he answered. "Besides, not many eleven-year-olds get to witness such a hands-on Sex. Ed class," he smirked.

"You're a bastard," Hermione told him, laughing.

"I know," he replied seriously. "But I'm also smouldering hot and you know it," he muttered in her ear, causing her to shiver, confirming his suspicion.

"I do, don't I?" she asked, grinning and he nodded.

"Only natural."


	19. Nostalgic

Hello... I'm rather at a loss for words right now. Not incredibly proud of this chapter, but I figured I'd better get somethinmg up. I suppose that's what happens when you continually stop writing in the middle of tangents. This is NOT the end, as it would be a rather stupid way to end a story, and since I still want to delve slightly into the summer, but it's coming close.

If any of you have a minute, I'd really love to hear your opinions on my newest little plotline, Fidelity's Fleece. It's a post-Hogwarts HGDM fic, of course, where Draco follows Hermione about, trying to convince her to join the dark side once again. Muchos history between the pair. With.. various details woven in that affect her decision.

Anyway, onto chapter 19! I own nothing, please don't mistake me for JK. Enjoy, review, whatever you wish for me to say.

* * *

From that evening onwards, it was like the shade that had been obscuring Hermione's vision had been lifted. The next morning she rose early and began planning her study schedules, like any other year. And true to Draco's expectations, she was simply mortified about her behaviour.

He had watched her, bemused, until NEWTs had finally approached them. And of course, when the time actually came down to it, she excelled in every subject. Hermione had snatched the highest marks in every class, except for potions. Her pride was damaged slightly, but she was still proud for Draco, even though he reminded her almost constantly.

Ever since the day after NEWT results had come in, Hermione was receiving a mad amount of owls daily, recruitments from various institutions, organizations and wizard colleges. Sadly, she put every bit of mail in a stack at the bottom of her trunk, which was all but packed.

Hermione was incredulous at the pace seventh year had taken, running off at top speed, and leaving her behind to get caught up. It was her second to last day at Hogwarts, and the graduation ceremony would be taking place that evening, with the Hogwarts Express leaving the next afternoon.

Along with her awaited return to reality, she had slowly come to accept that Harry wouldn't be around for his graduation, but at the mention of leaving the school, Hermione felt her stomach knot up something awful. It was still immensely painful for her to talk about the loss, but it helped at least slightly that Ron had taken up noticing her once more. He had even stopped her once in the hallways, shortly after exam results were out, to tell her that "Harry would have been proud."

She had immediately teared up and grinned at him, throwing her arms around him in a somewhat awkward hug.

As the remaining hours of her time at Hogwarts as a student trickled away, Hermione began to feel herself fill with nerves. She was sitting quietly in the common room, deep in thought, until the door swung open and Draco and Blaise came in, throwing themselves on the couch beside her.

"What are you doing up here?" Draco asked, leaning in. "The party's downstairs." He smirked, watching Blaise pick up a random book on the side table.

"Just thinking," she said quietly. "I don't want to leave here." She gave a sad look around the room.

"Hermione, Hogwarts was only the beginning of _everything_," he whispered, staring intensely at her. "You'll never really be leaving."

"What if I can never come back?" she asked absently.

"We've talked about this already, and you know there's no way I'm going to lose you to a Muggle life. If they force you to stay, just owl me or Blaise and we'll have you out of there right away," he muttered earnestly. She smiled faintly, nodding. He grinned back wickedly, pointing his wand discreetly at Blaise and whispering a curse.

Blaise's perfectly spiked hair was suddenly bright blue, and he seemed to take no notice at all. Hermione started to giggle uncontrollably, and Draco pressed his lips firmly to hers to shut her up.

"Honestly, can you two not keep that in private?" Blaise asked, mocking disgust. Draco pulled away, grinning conspiratorially at her.

"Fine Blaise, you win," Draco said lightly, standing up away from Hermione, as if to prove his best friend's victory, hands raised in defeat. Hermione stood to leave and Blaise tossed himself over the back of the couch.

"Took him two hours to do his hair for tonight," Draco muttered in Hermione's ear once they had started walking.

'Two hours?' Hermione mouthed in disbelief. Draco smirked, nodding. Hermione glanced at her friend and burst out laughing once more. Blaise stubbornly ignored the pair until they reached the great hall. The rest of the seventh years were mingling around, an occasional early bird parent mixed in. Hermione wandered off on her own, watching her friends as they celebrated their graduation.

Blaise caught up to her a few minutes after, draping an arm loosely over her shoulders.

"Dear Hermione," he muttered in her ear and she slanted her head up to look into his malicious eyes. "Just what colour is my hair right now?"

"It's a rather noticeable shade of blue," she admitted, grinning.

He sighed, muttering the counter-spell so his hair was its usual colour once more.

"Malfoy thinks he's quite the comedian, doesn't he?" Blaise asked conversationally, dragging her around the great hall.

"He seems to think that, yes," Hermione replied. Blaise stopped, standing up higher to look across the crowds. He smirked at a particular blond head, sending a hex across the room. Draco stopped talking as his hair suddenly transformed into a spiked mohawk. He lifted a hand cautiously, and his eyes widened in shock as he felt his new hairstyle.

Several Ravenclaws walked past, stopping to watch as the blond Slytherin stormed over to the other, revenge evident in his expression.

"Draco, you look simply mutinous," Blaise said mockingly. "It was merely my vengeance to you. The tables are even."

Draco laughed menacingly, as Blaise and Hermione shared a glance. The blond raised his wand into dueling position, staring Blaise in the eye, as he whispered a spell loud enough for Blaise to hear it. Blaise's eyes shot open in horror, as Hermione looked mildly bewildered. Suddenly Blaise's well-groomed hair undid itself, two hours of work vanished, and other patches of hair simply fell out.

"You bloody jackass," Blaise muttered, glaring at Draco. Hermione ducked out away from Blaise as the spat seemed not to end. Blaise quickly put his hair back to normal, pointing his wand back at Draco. "You know not to fucking mess with the hair, Malfoy."

Draco grinned at his outraged friend, quickly shooting a freezing spell at him, walking closer.

"I know how jealous you are, but there's no need for unauthorized contact of what isn't yours, Blaise," Draco said quietly, so no one else heard. "Including Hermione." He unfroze Blaise, who smirked, and Draco laughed in genuine humour, sneaking an arm around Hermione's waist as he took her through the crowd with him.

Hermione could taste the buzz of fresh gossip as she laughed out loud, leaning into Draco. It wasn't known around the school that anything existed between the two other than friendship. His latest actions had basically screamed out to the school that there was more, and Hermione suddenly found herself overwhelmed by euphoria. She turned around to see a horde of girls questioning Blaise on the couple, others watching them closely.

"I think they'd be disappointed if we walked away, Draco," Hermione suggested innocently, and he smirked.

"What are you saying, Hermione," he asked quietly, and she grinned up at him, eyes sparkling. He waited no longer for a response, before swiftly kissing her, a kiss full of passion that left no one in the hall with doubt. "Come with me," he breathed, grabbing her hand and pulling her outside to the grounds.

He took a seat by the lake, watching as the sun began to set, leaving the lake to glow a bright orange. Hermione followed suit, sitting cross-legged next to him.

"Hermione," he drawled, looking thoughtful. "I know I'd be lying if I said I wasn't upset about having to leave you alone for a part of the summer. But I meant what I said about owling if anything comes up." He glanced over at her, sighing. "I'm not going back to the Manor."

Hermione lifted her head to meet his eyes. "You aren't?"

"I can't go back there, after... all that's happened this year. I'm going to be renting a flat in wizarding London, and I'll owl you as soon as I get the address. I'm hoping that," he broke off, gazing into the water. Hermione dug into her brain to recognize his expression and realized with a jolt that he was nervous. Draco Malfoy, who had never really shown nerves in the seven years she had known him.

"I want you to come visit me. And also, to stay with me for a part of the summer if you can manage." His silver eyes shone into hers once more, before he looked away. "If you want to, that is. I know we lived together all year, but it wouldn't really be the same. Merlin, this all seems so final doesn't it?" he asked, and she nodded, deep in thought.

"Have you decided what you're going to do?" she asked, finding her mouth suddenly dry. He shrugged.

"I don't want to rush into anything, especially fresh out of school. I've got a list of possiblities," he said quietly. A slightly uncomfortable silence fell over them, and Draco glanced over at her.

"What's on your mind?" he muttered, looking at her inquisitively.

"Nothing, really. It's just... I'm no good at standing up to my family. What if they expect me to stay? I don't want to cut myself off from them," she said, voice wavering.

"If I were you, I'd worry about that if the time came. Either way, I'd appreciate some kind of contact, to know how you were getting on," he said earnestly, and she gave him a tiny smile.

"I'll probably end up owling you seven or eight times a day, and you'll get annoyed and tell me _not _to contact you anymore," she joked and he laughed.

His eyes suddenly went serious, and he turned back to face the lake.

"I'm sure this means hardly anything to you, but... I've never asked anyone this. I realize that things between us haven't been exactly official, and I'd love if I were able to call you my girlfriend," he glanced at her hopefully.

"Oh," she said softly, not entirely sure what she was expecting. "I'd love that as well, Draco," she said, smiling genuinely at him. He grinned back, and Hermione was struck by how attractive he really was, especially with a sincere smile upon his sharp features. Though it was still rare for him to open up, Hermione was incredulous at the amount he had changed that year, and overwhelmed that he had chose to include her in it.

Her head jerked up as she heard the noise level coming from the castle lessen, along with one prominent voice.

"We should get inside," she said quietly, as he glanced back at the castle in surprise.

"Yeah," he answered, watching her closely. "Still worried?"

"Terrified," she replied, not meeting his gaze.

"Not much to be worried about, really," he said conversationally, eyes glowing. "It's only life, after all."

* * *

By the time dinner was served, Hermione was more than gracious to be doing _something_. She never imagined her graduation from Hogwarts to be so... _boring_. After about the thirtieth speech, and as the last person received their diploma– Blaise, with an entirely normal appearance– Hermione was ready for it to be over. 

The Head Boy and Girl were to eat their dinner at the table with the staff, and Hermione shot Draco a quick grin of relief as the ceremony ended. He rolled his eyes back in reply and Hermione hastily coughed over her laugh. Draco smirked as he took a rather seductive bite of his potatoes, and his eyes widened slightly as Hermione's heel met his foot.

She took a nervous glance down the table, wincing as she met Snape's gaze, inwardly smiling at his puzzled expression. She laughed out loud as Draco tried to step on her own foot, noticing Snape's eyebrows vanish into his hair as he looked away.

Trying to act neutral, Hermione set down her fork and pointed at something by the doors. As Draco turned his head to look, she sent an elbow hard into his ribs, eyes aglow as he bent over slightly, gasping in pain.

"You win," he breathed in surrender. "Granger, you'd have made a bloody good Slytherin."

"I suppose I can take that as a compliment, coming from you, _Malfoy_," she replied happily, taking a bite of her steak.

"A compliment of the highest degree," he admitted, openly aiming a spoonful of salad at Hermione's hair.

"I've no idea what you're about to do, Malfoy," she said blandly, eyeing the salad carefully.

"Mr. Malfoy, put your food down," Professor McGonagall hissed sharply, and Draco begrudgingly set the lettuce back on his plate.

Feeling as if she wanted the last hit in their competition, Hermione childishly stuck her tongue out at Draco.

"I'll get you back later, don't worry," he assured her softly, grinning lightly at his plate.

"Can't wait," she replied sarcastically.

"I wouldn't be able to either," he said wholeheartedly, running a hand along her thigh and smirking at her intake of breath, still not meeting her eyes.

"Stop it," she gasped, glaring at his self-assured smirk.

"And if I don't?" he jeered, allowing his fingers to trail over her covered flesh.

"Maybe I won't allow you to get me back later," she suggested in a low voice, and he reluctantly took away his hand.

"You're no fun," he informed her, returning to his meal, as if nothing had happened.

"Draco, we're surrounded by professors, for Merlin's sake," she cried. "Don't tell me that honestly turns you on."

"You'd be surprised at what turns me on," he said quietly, so that even Hermione had to strain to hear, and she merely shook her head, grinning.

Hermione ate the remainder of her dinner in silence, ignoring Draco's glances, and unwillingly falling deep into thought. She was jerked from her trance by Blaise, when he caught up to her as she drifted her way to the Head's common room afterwards.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked as she blinked, startled.

"Of course, Blaise. What about?" she asked, eyes shining with expectation.

"It's complicated," he replied shortly. "I'm not entirely sure myself."

Hermione glanced at him expectantly, confused when he didn't continue.

"I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong," she said softly, grinning. Her smile quickly faded into a frown as she received no reaction.

"I just... I guess I wanted to thank you," Blaise began cautiously.

"For what?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

"For everything. Not just about the war; for being unable to prejudice against me, and for giving me an actual shot this year." His dark eyes were honest.

"When I approached you on the train, the whole idea was to make a statement, and prove a type of rebellion. I didn't care who I was fighting with, only who I was fighting against," he continued, coldly. "I never expected you to be so open."

"Blaise, I–" Hermione began in reply, but he cut her off.

"The more I think about this, the more something is ingrained into my mind. For the past seven years we've been surrounded by the pressures of living in the magic world, even more so since fourth year. It's been drilled repeatedly into our brains that when it comes to war, people win and people lose."

"Come inside," Hermione said quietly once they reached the Heads dormitory. She sat on the couch, though he didn't join her. Instead he stayed standing, watching her.

"They lied to us," Blaise said quietly, as if in defeat, and he sat next to Hermione. "It was all lies. No one bloody _wins _a war, do they?"

"No, I can't imagine they do," Hermione replied softly, intrigued by Blaise's words.

"There was no clear outcome. Both sides lost valuable members, no one _gained _anything."

"You're right, Blaise," Hermione broke in. "I can't recall a single person smiling at the post-war banquet."

"And now we're all about to leave this place for good, and this war will be our last memory. SO when we think of Hogwarts, we'll think of pain and hatred," he admitted darkly.

Hermione frowned, remaining silent until the portrait opened and Draco sat down next to the fire, observing the quiet pair with raised eyebrows.

"Are you two having a silent contest or something?" he asked, confused.

"I was just leaving," Blaise muttered. "I'll catch up on the train tomorrow." Hermione gave him a slightly sympathetic smile as he left, and turned to Draco.

"Last night in the commons of luxury?" she asked, lips quirked into a suggestive grin. He shot her an innocent look.

"Granger, your innuendo puzzles me. Surely you weren't intending anything by that statement," he muttered, pulling her close to him, flicking his tongue into her ear.

"Of course not, Malfoy," she whispered, leaning over to kiss him slowly, one hand buried in his smooth hair. He slid a hand up her thigh, maneuvering her body so that she was straddling him, and he intensified the kiss. The heat from his close contact encouraged Hermione to become bolder in her actions, as she struggled to unbutton his shirt.

Catching on, Draco pulled her up the stairs, leaning in to her ear, muttering, "I hope you didn't plan on sleeping tonight."


	20. Moving On

Oh, my gosh. Can you believe it, chapter 20? Though I'm doubtful I still have any old reviewers, (minus my one, Krystal, you are fab)I figured it was about time to post the final chapter to this piece, and you can't imagine how excited I am about it right now.

After a solid ten or eleven months since the last update, this story is complete!

This chapter is possibly the longest I've ever written, and I may have gone overboard on the D/Hr in it, but I can't bring myself to care. Wishing your enjoyment,

Thanks.

Ah, and of course, I own nothing. Literally. I'm sure this plot has been overdone immensely.

Read, let me know what you think. Fantastic.

* * *

"Hermione Granger." She froze at the sound of her father's stern voice, eyes widening with fright. Whatever line of reasoning she'd been following when she assumed that sneaking in would be quieter than apparating was currently alluding her. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Ahm... midnight?" she asked, hopeful. Of course she had forgotten how light of a sleeper he was.

"Try four-thirty in the morning." His tone of voice suggested intense disappointment. She sensed a punishment coming on.

Ah, right. It had been Blaise to inform her than apparating was too loud in the middle of the night. Damn him.

"Where have you been?" he asked, standing from his position on the sofa, and walking towards her.

"I was at a friend's place." Like she was about to say she had been introduced to the concept of broom- roof diving by Blaise and Draco, on the roof of the latter's flat. Blaise had fixed Draco's broken arm in no time, anyway. No harm done.

"What friend?"

"Friends from school. You don't know them." There was a tone of defiance in her voice.

"Hermione, haven't your mother and I told you? We want you living a normal life, no more magic. It would be best for you to cut ties with your friends from your... _school_."

"Best for who? The two of you, or for me? You have told me, yes, but I've also told you that I won't sit back idly and become a dentist like the two of you. I spent seven years studying something I love, and I won't let it go to waste."

Her father sighed. "Hermione, don't do this right now. Your mother and I know what's best for you, and you'd do well to learn that."

"No, I won't," she shook her head. Despite the early hour Hermione was becoming more alert, the traces of alcohol that might have been clouding her judgement earlier seeming to vanish.

"You will." His tone of finality angered her.

"I refuse to have this argument with you anymore, especially now; I don't think I can stay here tonight. I'll give you time to realize what you're attempting to do to me, and I'll be back sometime tomorrow."

Before her father could object once more, Hermione apparated out, not caring about the loud _crack_ the action made. She re-appeared moments later in Draco's flat, noticing that it was much more of a mess than she recalled. At least they had managed to remove the bodies of those who had passed out earlier.

Hermione found Draco and Blaise splayed out at the kitchen table where she'd left them, both semi-conscious, cackling their heads off over something. She pulled up a seat next to Draco, resting her head on the table.

"Hey babe," Draco muttered, kissing her half on the mouth, and she could taste the alcohol on his breath, before his head loudly hit the table once more.

"Haven't you two had enough yet?" she asked, feeling tired again. Blaise lifted the bottle, swirling around the remaining two inches at the bottom before he set it down again, groaning.

"Not yet," he said, attempting to upright his head. Hermione sighed, took the bottle from him and downed the last of the whiskey, her eyes burning. Blaise gave out a muffled thank you, and Draco gave her a high five.

"I'm staying here tonight," Hermione informed them. "I can't take being at home."

"Score," Draco murmured. "Hermiiiiioneeee, look how drunk I am. You gonna take advantage of me?" He grinned widely.

"I'm considering it," she stated. "First, have you got any more of that stuff?" Draco waved vaguely towards the cupboards. Hermione discovered another unfinished bottle, took several long swigs before walking back over. When she found herself appropriately light-headed she grabbed Draco's hand, pulling him up.

"You two have a good time, don't mind me or anything," Blaise scoffed. "At least you have that permanent silence charm, man, or I'd be out right now and probably splinch myself."

"That's a good thing," Hermione said, grinning, before kissing Draco hard on the lips, slamming the door to his bedroom behind them.

* * *

Hermione woke up the next morning to a loud moaning sound in her ears. She snapped one eye open, seeing Draco next to her, his eyes scrunched tightly shut. 

"Oh, sweet mother of _fuck that hurts_!" He shoved his head under the pillow, and Hermione, stifling a laugh, made herself comfortable once more on his chest. She reached under the pillow to lift it slightly, and he met her gaze momentarily, before shutting his eyes again.

Hermione rummaged on the floor for her wand, conjuring a tall glass of hangover cure, before handing it to him. He took the glass gratefully, downing it almost instantly. Within thirty seconds he was able to remove the pillow off of his face.

"Thank you," he murmured, kissing her softly. "And good morning. You never told me why you came back last night."

She sighed, shifting slightly. "I'll tell you later. Do you and Blaise have plans for today already, or can I stay here for a while?"

"Of course you're welcome here, you know that," he said quietly. "Sure you don't want to talk?"

"Later," she nodded. "Think Blaise is suffering too?"

"I doubt it, Blaise doesn't typically get hung over. Very badly, at least," Draco explained. "Lucky bastard. He probably left already anyway."

"Good, we don't have to get up right away," she said, eyes slipping shut once more.

"You plan on staying in bed all summer, do you?" he teased, adding suggestively, "not that I'm against that."

"Draco, I might as well just tell you. I got in another argument with my father last night, about magic again." He frowned darkly, his arms instinctively going around her waist.

"I know you don't want it to come to that, but you have a home here if you ever want it. I wish there was some way to change their minds." He looked pensive, his grey eyes clouded with thought. "Would you want Blaise and I to talk to them?"

"I suppose it couldn't hurt," Hermione admitted.

"Hang on, he might not have left yet." He sat up and Hermione ducked her head down further, sensing what was coming. "Oi, Blaise!"

"Yes, oh great master?" Blaise asked moments later as he opened the door.

"Get yourself ready, Blaise. We've got some persuading to do," Draco said, his smirk laced with mischief. Blaise raised an eyebrow.

"Then I suggest you get dressed Malfoy. Kindly wait until I've left the room." He closed the door again, and Draco began searching out his clothes, tossing Hermione's at her.

It wasn't until the three were ready to apparate to Hermione's house that she began to feel worried. She was about to bring two complete strangers to her parents to argue her case. And if she couldn't convince them, what chance would these two have?

Summer break had only been going for just under a week, and her parents had officially told her of their decision the day she got home; she had since been trying unsuccessfully to change their minds.

When the three arrived in Hermione's living room, she crept around the corner to the kitchen and her mouth fell open. Sitting at the table with her parents was her older brother, Nicholas, who she hadn't seen since he left for university. Her brother who hated the fact that she was magic.

His eyes rose to her in shock, and her parents turned to see who it was. Her father looked angry, her mother worried, and Nick merely indifferent. He averted his eyes and took a sip of coffee, before attempting to continue his conversation with their parents, who were now distracted.

"Hermione, where have you been?" Her father asked, ignoring Nick. "You scared your mother by taking off for the entire night."

"Were you with your magic friends?" Her mother's voice showed a trace of anger now. Nick snorted softly.

"Excuse me," Draco's voice broke in, as he entered the room with Blaise, and Hermione's mother jumped visibly in fear. "My name is Draco Malfoy and this is Blaise Zabini, and we are Miss Granger's advisors in the area of magical legalities." Blaise kept his expression perfectly serious, giving the slightest of nods.

Hermione shot Draco a bewildered look; he raised his eyebrows at her, and she understood his meaning. They don't know it doesn't exist.

"We'd like a word with you," Draco finished. Blaise folded his arms menacingly, making sure his toned muscles were clearly visible. Hermione shook her head at their ridiculous intentions.

"They're lying," she muttered. "They're my friends from school." Her eyes shone with defiance. Her father's hands twitched where they were lying on the table.

"But we would like to discuss Hermione's situation with the two of you nonetheless," Blaise continued. He shot a dark glance at Nick, not having been blind to the attitude he was possessing towards his own sister.

"I'm going to go look for those boxes I mentioned earlier," Nick said, taking the hint and leaving the room.

Blaise and Draco immediately pulled up seats on the opposite side of the table as Hermione's parents, and Blaise conjured another chair with his wand as if it were nothing, and Hermione's mother gasped in horror. Hermione took a seat, nervously biting her lip.

"Now," Draco stated, as if he were making a business proposition. "I don't think either of you understand exactly how unfair and cruel your decision is to your daughter."

"I think we understand just fine," Mr. Granger stated coldly, "we raised Hermione to live her life like us, and we've tried to teach her the value of hard work."

"Trust us, Hermione works hard," Blaise broke in. "Did you know she was officially titled the brightest witch Hogwarts has seen in half a millennium?"

"We didn't, no." There was silence as Mrs. Granger glanced at her husband. "That only proves that she will succeed anywhere in life."

"You don't see," Draco shook his head. "She has all the skills and knowledge she could ever need for a fantastic career in the wizarding world. She could be highly successful here, whereas there could be doubt if she turned to a Muggle future. She has no Muggle schooling past the age of eleven, and I don't think you want to subject Hermione to that."

There was another pause as everyone present knew Draco had hit a nerve.

"We don't want magic in this house," Hermione's father declared.

"If it's an issue of that, Hermione is more than welcome to live in my flat. There's enough space for four people to live comfortably, and you'd never need to worry about her living in substandard conditions." Hermione sent Draco a small grin.

"Hermione," her mother said softly, as if trying to keep secretive. "Which one are you dating?" Her father jumped as if the thought had never passed his mind.

Hermione took a tentative look between the males on either side of her, before pointing at Blaise, who laughed. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"That hurts, deep," he said in mock sadness. Hermione moved her finger to the other side to point at Draco instead.

"This one," she muttered.

"Then she definitely will not be moving into your flat," Mr. Granger said loudly, shooting Draco a warning glance.

"I'm not four," Hermione said angrily, speaking up for the first time.

Just then Nick walked back into the room, stopping as he saw the three visitors still sitting there. Draco stood abruptly, as Hermione and Blaise followed suit.

"We'll give you some time to change your minds," Blaise said formally, before they started out of the kitchen. As they were preparing to disapparate from the living room once more, Nick came into the room.

"Hang on," he said, turning to Draco, his eyes flashing. "Are you shagging my sister?" His tone was low enough so only Draco could hear him.

"That is absolutely none of your business," Draco replied stiffly.

"Sure it is. She's my sister," Nick said. Draco sneered at him, eyes cold.

"Listen to you," he muttered, dark hatred in his tone. "You've been rejecting her for years, because she isn't quite like you. You haven't seen her in how long, and you haven't even spoken a single word to her today. If you cared enough to know the answer to a question like that, you'd have at least said hello. Come on, Hermione." He took her by the hand, reassuringly.

"Do you love her?" Draco spun around once more, his eyes connecting with Nick's determined ones. His question that time was loud enough for the other two to hear as well. The beat that followed was so suspended that Hermione forgot to breathe. The two stared at each other, unblinking, for far too long. Draco turned to look at Hermione, meeting her gaze for a moment, before looking back at Nick.

Yes, I do love her," he said, giving Hermione's hand a tight squeeze. Her breath caught in her throat, and even Blaise's eyes widened slightly in surprise. Draco avoided her eyes. "It was... interesting to meet you."

Nick nodded, lost for words, as Draco apparated himself and Hermione back to his flat, Blaise following shortly after. Draco dropped her hand, before walking into his room for something. Hermione stood where he'd left her, still numb with surprise and Blaise collapsed on the sofa.

A minute later Draco hadn't emerged from his room, so Hermione walked slowly to the door. He looked up, sensing her, watching her inquisitively.

"What is it?" he asked, looking curious.

"You said you love me," she said slowly and he merely blinked at her. "You didn't mean it." The realization hit her as a blow to the heart, that he had probably said it only to prove Nick wrong. She turned away before he could see the tears in her eyes. Draco Malfoy doesn't fall in love.

"Hermione," he sighed. He ran over to grab her wrist before she left the room, but she pulled it from his grip. Once more he reached for her, turning her around to face him. He wiped away her tears with his thumb, his other hand sliding from her wrist to lock with her fingers. Hermione bit her lip.

"I honestly can't remember meaning anything more," Draco admitted, meeting her eyes. "I love you, a lot, Hermione."

"Why did you walk away just now?"

"This _caring_ thing is quite new to me, I'm sure you know. I'm embarrassed it took me so long to realize what I felt for you, even though Blaise told me what it was a long time ago."

"I see," Hermione stated, assessing him closely. "So guess what?"

"What?" he asked, confused.

"I knew I loved you a while ago," she muttered, grinning slyly at him. She wrapped her arms securely around his neck.

"Yeah? You did?" his voice was low, his eyes smouldering into hers. He slid his hands to her waist, pulling her in closer. Hermione leaned up to connect their lips, the familiar shock of electricity coursing through her at the touch of his mouth on hers.

"You two seriously need to learn how to close the door," Blaise interrupted some minutes later, and Draco tore his lips from Hermione's, sending Blaise a warning glance. The dark haired ex-Slytherin held up his hands in defense. "Just wanted to let you know I was leaving."

"See you Blaise," Hermione muttered, flushing lightly. Once he had disapparated out, Hermione turned back to Draco, the corners of her mouth turned up.

"Why can't I get enough of you?" she whispered, starting intently into his eyes. She dug a hand into his hair, messing it slightly.

Draco leaned down to press his lips to hers once more, softly this time. The hand she had in his hair slid down to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He reached up and took her hand in his, entwining their fingers. Withdrawing slowly, he rested his forehead against hers.

"I could ask you the same thing." He tugged lightly on her hand and walked out of the room. Upon investigating the nearly empty kitchen, he turned to her. "So we're going out for dinner." Hermione laughed and nodded, allowing him to take them both to Diagon Alley.

"You pick," he muttered as they walked slowly down the cobbled street.

"These are all the expensive restaurants," she replied, frowning. "I've never been to any of them."

"Alright, I pick this one," he said, steering her towards the door of a posh looking café.

"Hey, Hermione?" a voice asked as she was about to enter. She turned around, surprised.

"Hey Ron," she said quietly, offering a smile. "What are you doing here so late?"

"I just remembered tomorrow's Charlie's birthday," he said apologetically, returning the grin. Hermione noticed his gaze flicker to her and Draco's connected hands. "Malfoy." He gave the briefest of nods, and Draco hesitantly returned the acknowledgment.

"I'll talk to you later though, alright?" the redhead continued. Hermione nodded before he walked off and she went into the restaurant with Draco.

"You know," she began as they sat down at a table, placing their orders, the food arriving almost instantly. "I don't think I ever told you, but there was once or twice where I actually regretted not leaving Hogwarts with you last winter. You were right; it was something I was looking for. I just didn't have the guts then."

"Would you have come if I left now?" He watched her after a pause, curious.

"I'm not sure. I'd give it plenty more consideration now at least."

"So," he breathed, leaning in. "Hermione, what if I took off tomorrow? New York is really quite fabulous."

"You can't be serious, Draco," she replied, eyes shocked.

"Yeah." He pursed his lips, moving back in his seat. "But what if I was? Hermione, I've got to know. If I left, would you want to come with me? Everything you've got here would be one apparation trip away, except for home."

"And you," she added, lips curving into a smile. "Draco, I don't know. Why am I getting the feeling this isn't as hypothetical as you'd like me to believe?"

He met her eyes, his grey ones conveying a warm honesty.

"I've been thinking about the future lately. A lot. And I still don't know what I want to do. The closest I came to thinking I could actually do something with my life was when I was over there. It's so different, and I've become so anxious with London, you know? Especially since the war and all." She nodded, feeling slightly nervous. What was he saying? He sighed. "I was offered work by a man in New York. Nothing serious, just something to sustain me until I'm able to find a job I'd really like to do. I never got back to him, but he left the offer open."

Hermione was stunned. He was leaving again? She hadn't seen this coming by any means. She swallowed heavily.

"You're going, then?" she asked. He looked away.

"I'm still just considering it. I only wanted your opinion. I wouldn't go without you, of course; I made that mistake last time, but I would never force you into anything."

She met his eyes once more and all doubt she might have had was shattered. She'd readily trust this man with her life.

"I'd go anywhere with you, Draco," she said, smiling. Her tone was light but her words went deeper and he saw that. He smiled back, his nerves vanishing as he gave her hand a tight squeeze. "I think I could certainly use a change of scenery in any case."

He leaned over the table to capture her lips with his. When he pulled back she bit her lip, letting out a groan.

"We've had enough trouble trying to convince my parents to let me move to inner London, let alone America. They didn't even give me an answer yet."

"I'm positive we've got them on moving to my place. We can give them some time on this if we need to," he teased, still leaned in.

"What about Blaise?" she asked, her mind suddenly racing. "I don't want to leave him here alone."

Draco shrugged. "Blaise is spending most of the summer in Italy with his girlfriend; he's leaving next week sometime. "He's got some elaborate plans for next year, I'm sure time will allow him to visit."

"Right," Hermione replied, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Blaise's girlfriend. Would that be the one who has him under her control because he's wretchedly in love with her?"

"It's not _that_ awful, I suppose... it's quite an interesting emotion at least," he attempted to backtrack over his words from so long ago.

"Come on," she mocked, knowing she had him. "Tell me what you really think, Draco."

"It's bloody fantastic, alright?" he muttered, on edge. He shot her a glare. She grinned back, victorious.

"I know what you mean," she said softly, falling serious.

"Are you sure about America? It's quite a big change from here."

"Draco, you could dress me in a bikini, blindfold me and take me to Antarctica in the winter and I'd be fine with you," she assured him. He raised an eyebrow.

"That's not actually a bad idea." He appeared to consider it for a moment. "We could do that tomorrow instead, if you're free, and move halfway across the world the next day."

"We could," she agreed, pausing. "But we won't. Tomorrow we've got some serious convincing to do."

"No worries," he said, his tone sounding bored. "You forget; Slytherin. Cunning, Manipulative, Dangerous..." He sent her a glance.

"Conceited, egotistical, eager..." she continued, glancing at him. "Ridiculously good in bed when drunk half out of his mind..."

"See, I don't remember that. We should do it again sometime," he stated matter-of-factly.

"If you remembered it, you wouldn't have been drunk enough," she reminded him. "So that negates the purpose. Just take it as a compliment."

He had picked up the menu again and was casually scanning the alcohol section.

"Isn't it your birthday tomorrow? I'd rather have you remember what I've got planned for tonight," she said, reaching to take the menu from him. He had already tossed it to the other side of the table.

As they had both finished eating already, Draco stacked some money down on the table and stood up, snaking an arm around Hermione's waist. He hesitated, before leaning in to her ear.

"I'm wondering. Have you ever shagged in a washroom stall before?" He nibbled on her earlobe before she pulled back, regarding him with amusement.

"Have I ever shagged _you_ in a washroom stall before Draco?" She asked.

"No?" he replied, confused.

"Then no." Realization hit him as he understood. "Did you forget you were my first? As far as I know I've never cheated on you." She froze, biting her lip. "Well, there was that one time with Blaise while you were away..."

Seeing him frown, about to question her, she laughed.

"I was kidding. Why, have you?" He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"No washroom stalls, no. But since you were just so kind as to point out that it is in fact my birthday tomorrow..." he trailed off, looking at her pointedly.

"You really want to?" she asked, her lips twitching. He nodded, his eyes narrowing and his grip on her increasing somewhat. She laughed and allowed herself to be led to the washroom, mentally wondering why he had this sort of effect on her. A year ago she never would have considered something like this.

* * *

He had her trapped, her back to the wall, his hands as support on either side of her head. His lips crushed hers roughly, as she reached up to bury her hands in his blond hair, bringing him closer. He pressed his body into hers, one hand going to her back while the other began to slide up her thigh. 

His fingers trailed along her skin into her skirt, playing with the elastic of her underwear, moving downwards. Her hands went to his belt buckle, attempting to undo it, but she froze at his ministrations. She buried her face in his shoulder, her breathing heavy as she moaned into him.

He stopped as the door of the washroom swung open noisily. She lifted her head and met his eyes, dark with need.

"'Ey," came the rough voice of the custodian. "What's goin' on in 'ere?" She saw Draco smirk as he wrapped an arm securely around her back, and by the time the man pulled out a wand and opened the stall door, the two were gone.

"What are we doing here?" she asked, looking around the still crowded streets of Diagon Alley. He shrugged.

"The goal was to not get caught. You got us caught. Too damn noisy," he muttered, smirking.

"I'm sorry, was it my fault you wouldn't just do it?" she asked loudly, and a man passing by gave her a strange look. She sighed. "You're just going to leave me like this?"

He took a good look at her, smirk planted firmly on his lips. Her face was still flushed, her hair disheveled; she looked thoroughly turned on.

"Yes," he stated, beginning to walk down the street.

"You are such a tease," she hissed, catching up to him. "I know you want to finish this too."

"Not really," he said casually.

"Sure," she said in disbelief, glancing suspiciously down at his pants. "Yeah, not at all. Your belt is still loose by the way." He slid the leather back through the buckle and she sighed angrily, vanishing from his sight.

"Shit," he muttered. He quickly apparated back to the flat. She wasn't there. He ran a hand through his hair; he'd thought she knew he was only joking. He left once more, hoping he would manage to apparate into her bedroom.

Success was twofold. He appeared in a room where he didn't have to speak to her parents, but instead found her, facing away from him. She spun around as she heard him enter and smiled.

"I was kidding," he said, relieved to have found her.

"Yeah, me too," she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him. When he started to respond to the pressure, she pulled away. "Not here. They don't know I'm back." Her voice was almost at a whisper. He nodded, taking them both back to his flat.

"I believe I owe you something," he muttered, steering her towards his room.

"Bet your sweet little arse you do," she replied mischievously, cutting him off with her lips. Taking a glance at the clock she pulled back, "oh, and happy birthday."

* * *

By dinner time the next day the pair had emerged from Hermione's house, excited and nervous, leaving behind two thoroughly defeated and exasperated Muggles. 

As Draco explained the situation to his landlord, Hermione was left alone with her thoughts. Most of them were struggling to tell her how sudden this decision was, on both their parts.

The old Hermione would have never considered this!

She bit her lip, watching as Draco laughed at something the older man said. A light smile traced her features. It wasn't as if she were the new Hermione; she had merely changed.

Draco had once told her that he intended to find redemption. She wondered if this was it. Or if perhaps he had already discovered it. Maybe with the act of murder, his soul had been cleansed, she mused, like his life had become free of Lucius.

She reviewed her last year at Hogwarts, deep in thought. She never would have imagined losing her best friend. When it came to it, she could still hardly accept that Harry was gone. It had been so sudden. She wasn't too sure her and Ron would ever have the friendship they'd had before either. Though she was willing to give it a shot.

She had made good friends with another Slytherin, Blaise. He had become so much more in her life than she ever would have expected. And he was, essentially, her comic relief.

She had grown to know Draco Malfoy. The dark prince of Slytherin, the Hogwarts womanizer, son of a notorious Death Eater... and she had fallen in love with him. She snorted aloud at the thought.

Would he have changed half as much as he did without sharing living space with her all year? How different would things be? He had saved her life from Lucius in the last battle... maybe she wouldn't even be around to contemplate.

She suddenly wanted to seek him out, to reassure herself. Draco and his landlord had walked into the next room. She leaned against the wall and sunk down. He was fine.

More than fine, actually. She had never seen him quite so happy.

He had never told her much of his trip away from Hogwarts, only what he had mentioned to her in those carefully scripted weekly letters. She hoped he had no idea she still kept them all pressed inside her original edition of _Hogwarts: A History_ he had given her.

She knew, however, he had enjoyed himself. Which meant it had to be a decent place at least. And if they grew tired of it, they could always move on. Hermione considered the stack of job offers at the bottom of her Hogwarts trunk. She figured she would be able to find something she could love in New York.

And if not... well.

At least she'd be taking something she loved with her. And if he was happy, she was happy.

She met his gaze through the doorframe. It sparkled brightly. Yes, she was happy.


End file.
